Double Fault
by attackfish
Summary: Practice games become tremendous tests of endurance when Ryoma finds himself losing energy. To make matters worse, the senior players notice. Ryoma seems to be more sick than he realized. First person, various PoV. Gen. Ryoma is diagnosed with leukemia.
1. Part One: Not feeling well

**Title:** Double Fault (a "Prince of Tennis" fanfic)  
**Warnings:** Mature themes.  
Started: 2006.07.07

**Disclaimer**: Prince of Tennis does not belong to me. Also, I'm not making any money off of fan fiction...I just needed an outlet for many of the feelings I was going through at the time I started this story. Although much has changed since I started writing (not just my writing style, either!) I'm leaving this story up for others to read...sometimes it's nice to know that someone else has gone through a similar experience, so I will leave this story up. I don't think I will finish this story, but you never know. I also don't own Too Soon to Say Good-Bye by Deborah Kent (used as a model for many of the earlier medical information and emotional responses up until Ryoma is admited. For example, passing out at a competition, a grumpy mom in the family doctor office were scenarios from this young adult book).

Enjoy this story for what it's worth.

**Status**: Discontinued.

**Author: **(here: attackfish, Live Journal: bowlofkaki)

**Summaries: **

**V1: **It seems to Ryoma that summer training has gotten too rough for hot and humid Japan. To make matters worse, Momoshiro and Oishi have taken notice of the first year's uncomfortable disposition. Ryoma seems to be more sick than he realized. First person present, switching PoV.

* * *

**Double Fault**

by attackfish, a.k.a. bowlofkaki

(Echizen's PoV)

"Na, Echizen!" Momoshiro bellows, lingering on the vowels in my name, like that would help me hear him better, "are you paying attention?" Momo can be very loud when he wants to be, and right now, he really wants to make sure I pay attention to _him. _The second year regular puts a hand on my shoulder, like I hadn't heard him hollering at me a second before.

"Yeah, yeah," I mumble, leaning out of Momo's heavy grip and walking to the courts.

I knew it was supposed to be hot today- and humid. Japan is always humid. Hot and humid. It's that smothering kind of heat that makes you stay indoors, the kind of heat where my dad used to bring home popsicles and take me to the pool.

Not to mention, it feels a lot hotter on the courts. The heat was so fierce you could see it rippling across the green of the court.

"We're playing in court B." Momo didn't have to jog too far to catch up with me. I'm moving like a rock today. Today's warm-up jogging zapped all of the energy out of me...I don't know why we have to run in this kind of heat. Shouldn't we save our energy for the practice match?

"Echizen, Momoshiro! Get started or you're running laps!" Oishi ordered from his court. Oishi is trying really hard to be a commanding, authoritative temporary-captain since Tezuka is away in rehab.

"Yes, co-captain!" Momo yelled, as I tried to choke out some kind of affirmative. We jogged the last few strides to court B. Luckily, I call first serve. Maybe I can get it together if I take my time.

It's the heat that's throwing my game off. It's been really hot lately, and my game is suffering for it. Even night-time isn't a relief; I just toss and turn all night. I woke up tired again, but today's gonna be different. I've got to get my game back, or this summer will drag on, and on.

I'm already in position, hand digging in my pocket to grab a ball. Across the net, Momo is the picture of anticipation. I frown under my hat. Where does Momo get all that energy in this kind of heat? I swallow as I bounce the ball, wishing I could take a break to get a drink.

I bounce the ball again, but let it fly back up to my hand. Need to get it a little higher...it bounces again, and this time I feel my arm stretching up, and my eyes zero in on the ball. I hit it with a solid _thump_, and it flies over the net. I didn't hit the twist serve, but Momo doesn't seem to care. He's already into the game.

In spite of the overwhelming heat, Momo plays a good game. He hits a couple of great passing shots to gain an early break. I win a few points off of him- unforced errors on Momo's part- but he had the advantage in that I was exhausted and he wasn't.

I'm breathing hard in the heat, and sweating profusely. I'm still not into the game, and can't seem to work up enough energy to run the balls down. Momo wins the match in no time.

"Lets get a drink and stretch." Momo says easily, like he didn't just beat me 6-3. I nod, and grab a towel off the bench. The gate seems to sway oddly. Maybe it was me who was teetering, tilting off balance.

I wish there was a breeze.

I pause at the net to catch my breath. Momo stands a few steps away, waiting. I close my eyes, and turn to face the sun. Eyes open, I start for the water fountain. I know I'll feel better with some cold water on my face and a quick drink.

I lean heavily against the sink, pushing my head under the running water. The cold water feels good.

"Hot, huh? Yeah, it's hot!" Momo laughed and sprayed me with the other fountain. I glare at him, but really, it feels nice. "Tough week, huh? Your classes hard?"

I shrug. Classes are just something between morning practice and afternoon practice if you ask me. A wave of dizziness goes over me, and I hunch over. Not for the first time this week, I wish practice would be called off. I don't know how I'll get through the next practice match.

"Let's stretch some and do a couple of drills." Momo suggests. We stretch slowly, side by side. Momo lets me control the pace. I'm reluctant to stop- I still haven't caught my breath. Every time I think we ought to get started, a weight presses down on me. Around me the other matches continue, and first years do drills. Somewhere in the distance I can hear the bells that announce a train.

Slowly, I force myself to head back to the court. Momo follows me in silence. Back at court B, I start feeding Momo balls. He alternates hitting with his backhand and forehand. I keep feeding him balls, content to stand while I run my older classmate around the court.

"You wanna have a go?" Momo asks, catching the ball instead of hitting it. He knows I'm avoiding practice. I guess it's because I've been playing so terribly for the past week. I can't seem to get enough energy to get over the heat.

I'm getting worse, not better. I shake my hair out of my eyes and smile at Momo, smirking at Seigaku's power player. "You getting tired, Momo-sempai?" I bait him, trying to buy a little more time.

"You little weasel!" Momo whines, smiling. "You've been running me around in this heat while you're just standing there!" Momo closes the distance between us in a few swift bounds. He grins wickedly and looks like he's up to something. "Staying cool while your seniors do all the work!" he teases, and lunges for my hat.

I protest and try to grab it back, but Momo's a lot taller than me. He dances around me while I reach for it, using it like a fan. I swear, Momo's more of a child than I am sometimes.

I've almost got the stupid hat when Momo stops grinning, and grabs my arm, instead.  
"What's this bruise from? Looks pretty bad." Momo is staring at me, and I don't like the look in his eyes.

I look at my arm, and see a large, purplish bruise. I don't remember getting it.

I can feel my lips turn down, as I try to pull away. "I dunno. Probably from playing with freakishly strong tennis players." I can't keep the words light. I sound like a defensive little kid.

Momo looks at me uncertainly, unconvinced. He's squinting at me, looking at the assortment of bruises on my arms and legs.

I pull my arm away, hugging it to my chest. "Who ever said tennis isn't a contact sport?"

In spite of the heat, I wish I had worn pants. The bruises are big and ugly and too easily seen. I'm trying to find a way out of this conversation when I hear Oishi in the next court. Just in time, Oishi is calling for a team pep-talk. I jog ahead of Momo, eager to forget about his probing questions.

"Listen up everyone; we've got a rigorous training schedule planned for tomorrow. We've only got a few more practice sessions before our next big game, and we really need to strengthen our game if we want to win it!" Oishi's enthusiastic determination makes him look older than fourteen. Our team is lined up before him, regulars in the front row. The energy is overwhelming.

"You all have been practicing hard out there today—"

"Nah, Oishi! Do we get the day off?" Kikumaru jumps in, looking like a cat about ready to steal the fish off your plate.

Oishi frowns at his doubles partner, and shakes his head. "We've still got the second half of our training menu to finish today. We need to concentrate and really buckle down, right now!" Oishi looks happy. How can he look happy about working even _harder_ in this kind of heat?

Around me, the team is yelling and whooping in agreement, catching some of co-captain Oishi's enthusiasm. I feel weak. I wish I stayed home today. Oishi calls out names to do drills, some to play more practice matches, but I'm not listening. I don't know how I'm going to handle more today.

"Echizen," Oishi has his hand on my shoulder, "are you feeling okay?" There's no one around us, the other team members have already started again. I try to remember when they left. "You're looking pale...are you sick?"

Oishi's concern is worse than Momo's. I feel uncomfortable. What had Oishi told me to do for practice? I can't remember. I shake my head wordlessly, and look to where Momo and Fuji are playing.

Oishi puts his hand on my forehead, trying to see if I'm hot. "Come with me to the nurse's room...I need to get some more supplies for the first aid kit." He tries to smile, but that worry tugs at his eyes, and I know that he doesn't really need any more supplies for the first aid kit.

Great. Now I have to go see the stupid nurse. "Co-captain Oishi, I don't think the nurse is in today...isn't it her day off?" I try to beg off. Oishi just tugs me along behind him.

"Oh, she's in today! I'm sure of it!" Oishi says, smiling that worried smile some more. I guess he's noticed my game this week. But then again, who hasn't? I'm losing to anybody.

We take off our shoes and put on the indoor-slippers. It should be a relief to step inside, but Seigaku- like any other school I visited when we first moved here- doesn't have central air. It's only a little cooler indoors than it is outside. I put my hat back on, tugging it down while I stare at Oishi's feet.

The nurse's office is on the second floor. It's close to Momo's homeroom but on the opposite end of the wing as my room. I stand in front of the door as Oishi steps inside.

"Excuse me, nurse..." he says quietly.

I stare at my feet. I wonder if Oishi would get too mad if I just start down the hall...there's a water fountain over by my classroom...

"Echizen, come sit down." Oishi urges, pulling me into the room. I allow him to pull me in, and he sits me down on the cot. "It seems the nurse has stepped out. You wait here while I go check in the teacher's lounge."

I look up for the first time and notice that Oishi is right. No one is in the room. We're the only two in there. I look at the clock. Practice had only been on for a little under an hour. I make a face- it seemed like so much longer than that!

"I'll be right back—" Oishi starts for the door, but I interrupt him.

"No, Oishi-sempai, I'll just go home." I look up at Oishi, begging for him to forget about it.

Oishi doesn't look convinced.

"I'll see the nurse tomorrow during homeroom." I really don't want the school nurse looking at me at all, but I can't think of any other way to keep Oishi from worrying. "You don't have to find her."

Oishi smiles at me for real this time. He thinks I just don't want to wait. "It will only take a few minutes, Echizen. Besides, your homeroom teacher wouldn't like you going to see the nurse first thing." He smiles at me, reassuring and scolding at the same time. Oishi would make a good teacher. He seems like one, sometimes.

"But-" I know I sound desperate, but I can't keep the edge out of my voice.

"I'll be right back." And he leaves. Co-captain Oishi leaves me in the tiny nurse's office. I wonder if he really thinks I'll stay put. There's no way I'm seeing the school nurse. I'll walk home before Oishi gets back.

My mind set, I decide to wait a little before leaving. I watch the clock for two minutes, and get up. The dizziness hasn't passed, but it's not as strong as it was before. I guess the inside of the school really is a little cooler than outside...

I move slowly, and peer out the door. Oishi is nowhere to be seen. I smirk to myself, and head down the stairs, keeping an eye out for my senior classmate. Should I go get my bag? Will one of the others stop me?

I'm reluctant to go to the locker rooms. I'm tired and want to go home. I can get my stuff in the morning. Who needs schoolwork, anyways? I should get some sleep and be ready for practice tomorrow. I'll be back on my feet and ready to play tomorrow and Oishi will realize I don't need to see the stupid school nurse.

So I go out the front doors, and start walking home in my tennis clothes. I left my racket by my locker, but I don't want to go back to get it.

Momo and I always walk home together, so I know the way. It's not even all that far- it just takes a little longer to walk than to ride. I wish I could be riding, right now, though. The heat coils around me, and I feel light headed again. I'm moving so slowly.

At this rate, I'll get home even later than usual.

Exasperated, I decide to rest a little by someone's house. I'm so tired. I wish I took the bus. I let my head fall against the cool stone, and lean heavily against the wall.

I wish I were home.

* * *

(Momoshiro PoV)

I'm playing a good game. The problem is, so is my senior classmate, Fuji. We're more than half-way through the practice match, and Fuji has already sealed off my dunk smash...with a counter like his, why shouldn't he?

It's my serve. I blast the ball down the middle, but Fuji is already there. He returns the ball deep into the court, making me run for it. I half ran, half slid to my right and slice a backhand. Fuji rushes the net, but I guessed he'd do that. I'm already in position to counter his two-handed backhand with a smooth slice. Too bad for me, Fuji's anticipated this move perfectly and lifts an offensive topspin lob- baiting me, I'm sure. The ball lands softly _right_ on the baseline- out of my reach.

In spite of Fuji's stead-fast control of the game, I'm still grinning like a lunatic. "Man, senior, it's hot today! Can't you go easy on your juniors once in a while? Yeah, you oughta go easy on me!"

But Fuji isn't smiling. In fact, he's not even looking at me, or switching sides, like we're supposed to. I follow the third year's gaze to see Oishi jogging out of the school. "Oishi!" I call out, "where's the kid?"

But Oishi isn't smiling either and doesn't respond to my question. He's asking Ryuzaki something, but I can't hear a thing. This doesn't feel good. Something's up.

"Sorry, Fuji," I grin over at my opponent and dash towards Ryuzaki-coach and our co-captain.

"...he probably just went home..." Oishi was saying, trying to sound casual, but looking like a worried mother.

"Well, co-captain, I expect you to see to Echizen tomorrow. Leaving in the middle of practice is unacceptable." Ryuzaki looks stern, but she's actually smiling a little. She doesn't seem too worried about the kid. "If he's well enough to sneak out of school, there's no need to worry about his health."

"What? Echizen snuck out of the _nurse's_ office?" I can feel my face working up, mirroring Oishi's worried expression. "That's not good! Ryuzaki-coach, I'm going to go get him!"

My feet are ahead of my mouth, though, and I'm already running to the locker room, pushing through my classmates and underclassmen.

"Wait, Momo!" Oishi yells after me. Poor guy; now he's got _two_ players ditching practice. Both regulars, nonetheless.

The locker room is small, but always feels smaller when everybody's in there. "Get outta the way, people! Coming through!" I yell, pulling two scared looking freshmen away from my locker. I thrust my racket in my bag and my school clothes into my book bag.

Now where's Echizen's stuff? I can only see two rackets in his bag. Where's the other one? Did he bring it with him? Then I remember Oishi took him to the nurse...maybe it's over there. In my hurry to go grab the stupid racket I forget to grab the kid's school things.

I hope he has a spare uniform to wear tomorrow.

I'm carrying both our tennis bags, plus my school bag when I screech to a stop in front of the lockers. "That little- he left his racket _on the floor?_" the racket is lying down in the first year's locker section. I swoop down and grab the thing, and dash out to grab my bike.

Once I'm on the road, I wonder why I'm doing this. Running all over the school to take care of a freshman. I've barely known Echizen for a few months. He moved in at the beginning of the school year, and nobody would call him warm and sociable. But somehow, I've managed to make a guy like that into my friend.

I'm trying to sort through my thoughts when I almost run over some little kid leaning against his house. My bike skids to the other side of the street- and into the gutter. "Watch where you sleep, kid-" I'm yelling, trying to tug my bike out of the irrigation. This kid is starting to- wait a second. That's Seigaku's uniform. "Echizen you idiot!" I yell, and at this, the brat stirs. Is he _still_ sleeping?

I abandon my bike, and walk over to the sleeping rookie. "Oi." I shake his shoulder. "Wake up, sleepy."

Echizen opens his eyes. Blinks at me.

"Hell of a place to take a nap! Echizen, you idiot! If you wanted to sleep, why not stay in the nurse's office?" I pull him up. "Geeze, you didn't get too far, did you? We're barely two minutes from the school."

Echizen mumbles something indistinct, and rubs his eyes. He looks beat.

"What?"

"Hi, Momo." The kid rubs his eyes some more. "I said 'I wasn't sleeping.'" He repeats, more clearly this time. "I was just taking a break."

He could have fooled me.

"Well, since I'm here and everything, how about I give you a lift home?" I'm trying to sound casual, but Echizen makes a face like I offered to give him a handicap or something. Geeze, this kid is so arrogant. Though it could be a pride thing. I can understand that...pride is a guy thing.

"You got my tennis stuff." His voice is surprised, but slow and without luster, rather like his moves on the court not even a half an hour before.

"Yeah. Forgot your school stuff, though..." I put one embarrassed arm behind my head. I really had just taken off, back there.

I cross the street, and pull my bike out of the gutter. Our stuff is almost falling off, so I readjust it. Echizen waits for me to get on before climbing up behind me.

Echizen's oversized tennis bag makes him seem that much smaller. It's hard to remember that I was ever that small. To think, just a year ago I was about his height and still doing drills. I'm glad I'm not doing drills again this year! I don't think I could stand that.

I pedal down the neighborhood road, going at break-neck speeds down the hills, and busting my butt up them. The ride to Echizen's house feels like it's on a mountain! All these hills...

Hills aside, I guess this part of town is okay. The old neighbors are friendly enough, and everything is kept clean. It's just another terrace filled with houses in Tokyo, I guess.

"The old man isn't out today." Echizen notes.

The old neighbors will greet any old stranger walking down his street- especially students. They'll holler out a "welcome back" from their side of the street. The old man is usually tending the rice patch down this bend, but he's not out yet. We're much earlier than when we usually speed by this way.

"Yeah. Remember when he first said "welcome home" to you?" I laugh, remembering the freshmen's bafflement. Apparently no one in America says "welcome home" to traveling students. Neighbors must be complete strangers over there. I guess there's no feeling of 'it takes a village to raise a child' where Echizen grew up.

"How could I forget? You laughed at me the whole way home." Echizen sounds like he's far away, but I tell myself it's because of the wind.

"How couldn't I laugh?" I grin at the memory. "You actually told that old man 'I'm not home yet!'" I laugh some more, and feel my grin widen. "Did you see his face? What a riot!"

"Even you said it was weird, Momo!" Echizen grumbles into my shoulder.

"It was a little weird." I admit, watching the bushes go by. "That guy doesn't know either of us. Besides, most people don't do that kind of stuff anymore." I'm looking at the doorbell speakers on a traditional style house as I say this. Japan is a mix of old and new, though most people seem to try to get away from the 'old ways.' I shrug.

"But you didn't have to be so rude y'know. Kids should respect their elders, huh? Yeah, kids should respect their elders!" I laugh some more.

We're rounding a corner now, but it takes the kid a on my back a few seconds to turn into it. I correct our balance without a word. Echizen has been out of it for the past couple of days. Slept in on Monday- Horio told everybody how he came in _after_ homeroom. Not to mention, he's been grumpy and tired throughout practice.

Though I guess he's _always_ grumpy and tired.

We ride down the last hill in silence, and I stop at his family's gate. I watch the kid clumsily unload, and open the gate. I frown at the bruises on his legs.

Those bruises look angry. Big, blotchy bruises. No way he doesn't remember getting those. I brush those thoughts aside and grin after Echizen's retreating back.

"Get some sleep, Echizen! Co-captain Oishi's gonna have your head in the morning!" I holler after him.

The kid pauses at the door and looks back. His lips are pulled up in a quirky smile, "Yes sir!" he jokes, and disappears behind the door.

"Yeah, Oishi's gonna have my head, too...Geeze, I'm supposed to set a good example, and I take off like that..." I shake my head. "Man."

Thinking of all the laps I'll have to run tomorrow, I set off for my own home. I hope all Echizen really needs is a good night's sleep, but somehow I think that's not it.

He'll be okay. That kid's a winner.

Now if only I could make _him_ remember that.

* * *

(Echizen PoV)

"Oh, you're home early, Ryoma!" Nanako chirps from the kitchen. "Welcome home!" She looks honestly pleased to see me, smiling like that.

I pull my hat down, telling myself that she probably actually _is_ glad to see me. Nanako has a younger brother and sister and it just so happens that she likes taking care of kids. She tells me that all the time. Still, I don't know how she always sounds so cheerful.

I mumble the customary "I'm back" she's expecting. I trudge over to the fridge to pour myself a cup of plum juice my dad's mother sent us. It's good; sweet and tangy. It's a syrupy juice that needs to be watered down.

"Did practice let out early?" Nanako asks. She's chopping up vegetables.

"No." I answer. I sit at the table, and stare at the sink. The juice isn't agreeing with my stomach.

Nanako sits across from me. "Oh." She looks confused. Her eyes scan my face. "Do you have a test tomorrow?" she ventures.

I know Nanako is trying to be helpful, and is nice, but right now I wish she'd go back to cooking. "I left early."

"Are you-" Nanako starts, bringing her manicured hand out to brush my forehead.

"I'm going upstairs." I stand up, and retreat. I don't want more people poking and prodding at my bruises. I rush for the door, but it's opened from the other side before I can get out and head for the stairs.

"Hello, young man," my dad sings out. He elbows me back to the table. He's grinning at me as he continues, "do you want to play a game?"

I glance at the tennis ball in his hand. My dad is smirking a little, and edging for the table. "I was going upstairs." I grumble, reluctant to give any information to _him_, of all people.

Having said this, I duck under dad's arms and trot up the stairs.

Behind me I hear Nanako say, "I wonder if Ryoma isn't feeling well? He came home so early..."

I try to ignore this conversation and glare down at the bruises on my legs and arms. I don't know where they're coming from...I don't _feel_ any more clumsy than normal, but there's so many of them... I wish they would disappear.

I close my door, and lay on my bed. I don't want to get under the cover in this heat. I don't want to get changed into my nightgown. Everything seems so stupid! Nobody'll give me a break.

I'm so tired...

* * *

…tbc…

Thoughts?


	2. Part Two: Lackluster practice

**Title:** Double Fault (a "Prince of Tennis" fanfic)  
**Warnings:** Mature themes.

**Author: **(: attackfish, LJ: bowlofkaki)

**Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis does not belong to me. I am not making any money off of this. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary: **It seems to Ryoma that summer training has gotten too rough for hot and humid Japan. To make matters worse, Momoshiro and Oishi have taken notice of the first year's uncomfortable disposition. Ryoma seems to be more sick than he realized. First person present, switching PoV.

* * *

(Echizen PoV)

"Ryoma," I heard Nanako's soft voice calling. "Ryoma, it's time to wake up."

I groan, and squint my eyes shut against the morning light. How can I _wake up_ tired? I sigh, and stare up at the ceiling. I wish I had a ceiling fan in my room, like the one in the living room in my old house. In America, where _everybody _has air conditioning.

"Ryoma, are you awake in there?" Nanako calls again, ever chipper. "Your mother made breakfast! It smells delicious." Really, I know she's only trying to get me out of bed, but mentioning food is the last thing I want to hear.

I hate mornings.

"I'm up, I'm up," I mumble to my sheets. Well, I'm awake; I'm not really out of bed yet. I glare at the door. I really want to go back to sleep, but a glance at the clock tells me I'm already running late.

Reluctantly, I put my feet on the grown and sludge around my room getting dressed. I'm glad I have two school uniforms-- and grateful that Nanako already has it clean. Nanako thinks ahead, unlike either of my parents. I feel a little guilty about being irritated at her for waking me up.

I'm moving like an old man this morning; I must have pulled a muscle. My knees hurt, my elbows and shoulders, too...I wonder if I've been working too hard? Just walking around my room is enough to make me sit back on my bed to rest a little. I think I'll take it easy today, maybe only do a couple of light drills...

Crap. Drills. Practice. Oishi's gonna kill me.

I fumble with the last button, and head down the stairs. Karupin weaves in and out of my feet, rubbing against my leg.

"I can't feed you this morning, Karupin! I'm late." I tell my cat, but I scoop him up anyways. I'll drop him off in the kitchen so Nanako or dad can feed him.

Nanako and mom are eating at the table, and dad is reading a newspaper. I bend down gingerly, dropping Karupin by his water bowl. "Has anyone given him his breakfast yet?"

"Ah, not yet," Nanako smiles. "Eat you breakfast, Ryoma," she fumbles with the English, her Japanese accent making it sound like 'break fest.' "Mother make gu-great food," she stumbles over the 'r' and stresses the last part of the word prominently.

Mom and dad just smile at her English, and offer encouragement and praise for the few lines. I don't know why they'll speak English with her-- we never spoke anything but Japanese at home when we were in America.

I guess it's because Nanako wants to brush up on her English for college. That's supposed to make it okay for her to use me and mom for practice. I hate teaching people English almost as much as I hate learning kanji, the imported Chinese characters that make up the Japanese written language.

I just stare at them, and turn around. "I'm already late; I don't have time to eat." My stomach lurches at the thought of food. "Momo will be here soon."

My dad snorts from behind the newspaper, saying, "Eat your toast, brat. And drink that milk your senior classmen wants you to drink." He sounds stern, but really I think he just wants to start an argument.

I glare at him, and want to protest, but he speaks before I do.

"You don't want to be hungry through practice, do you? You need to _eat _to practice." Dad sounds like he's enjoying his little lecture. Parents. They never stop lecturing.

I sit down, resolved to eat as little as possible until Momo pulls up.

The bottles of milk sit beside my plate. Eying the toast, I take a small bite. It tastes like sawdust in my mouth and feels about the same. I sip a little milk, but I'm not interested in eating.

Somehow, I manage to eat most of the toast and milk before Momo gets there. I'm not hungry, but I'm not full either. I hear Momo's bicycle bell ring from outside, and hastily dash to the door. I wave at my senior and run for his bike.

Momoshiro laughs at my actions, and says, "In a hurry?" He looks pleased about something.

I shake my head. "Not really."

With that said, we speed off for junior high, me clinging to Momo's back trying my best not to get sick all over his shirt. Wouldn't that be something? I hope I get over this bug soon!

We actually get to school ahead of time, and unboard with all of the other bicycle-riding students to walk to the bike racks. It's a drab sight when we're all wearing black, but it's not so bad in the summer. Uniforms are simple white polo shirts-- probably so nobody passes out-- and black slacks.

I really hate morning practice, but if I ditch morning drills on top of cutting yesterday...I'm afraid of what Oishi would do. Really, that guy has a responsibility streak a mile wide.

I walk a little behind Momo, trying to work out my sore joints. I can't seem to loosen up...I guess I need to warm up more. We go strait to the locker room to change, and to put our stuff down.

"You ditched practice yesterday!" Horio greets me, as usual, speaking loudly. "Co-captain Oishi is going to make you run laps, y'know." He waves his arms around for emphasis. "I bet you have to run 20 laps this morning!"

Behind me, I hear Katsuo, "Horio, Ryoma went home for a good reason!" He's already dressed out. "Right, Ryoma?" Katsuo looks to me, urging me to explain my disappearance.

I look away, uncomfortable.

Kachirou steps up beside Katsuo. These guys always seem to be together. "Were you not feeling good?" Kachirou suggests, slowly. Now they're all staring at me.

"No." I close my locker a little too hard. "I feel fine." And with that, I walk out of the locker room, away from my year-mates.

Behind me, I hear Horio say, "What's with that guy!" Irritable and hot tempered as usual. "I guess the regular's training menu is too much for him after all!" Horio's voice carries, but I've stopped walking away. "Not so great, is he? If it were _me _I'd tough it out! Practice every day!"

"Horio!" Katsuo scolds, but I don't stay put to hear the rest.

Co-captain Oishi is standing right in front of me. He steps towards me, and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay?" This isn't good...Oishi _isn't _yelling. I don't know how to handle concern and worry from my temporary captain. Isn't he supposed to make me run laps for missing practice? Cold dread makes my stomach lurch.

"I'm fine, co-captain." I try to sound confident, but my voice shakes. "Sorry I skipped practice." I can't meet his gaze.

"No, you couldn't have played anyways." Oishi says. He steps towards me, and puts a hand on my shoulder.

"That hurts," I say, trying to get him to back off. He smiles at me, but doesn't move his hand.

"I'm seeing you to the nurse's office. And she'll be there, so don't plan on running away!" Oishi scolds.

And with that said, we head for the nurse's office. Again.

So. Not only am I stuck in the nurse's room, but I'm stuck in here with a bunch of other people. Mostly girls. It looks like most of them are just hanging around, playing with the nurse's collection of stuffed pandas. Who would want to hang out in the nurse's room?

"So, Echizen. What seems to be the problem?" the Nurse stands next to my little cot and behind her, Oishi gives me a stern look.

"Um," I say, uncertain of what exactly I'm supposed to say. I don't get sick very often, and when I do someone else was with me-- who usually would tell the doctor what was wrong for me.

The nurse isn't really waiting for a reply, though, and she sticks a thermometer in my ear. "38.5, hmm? Looks like you have a slight fever. Your captain tells me you've been tired lately; how much sleep have you been getting recently?"

"Um," I say again, and flush. A fever? I know it's a low fever, but still... "Sleep? I don't know...about normal, I guess." I mumble.

"You look pale, Echizen. Have you been under any stress lately?" she looks at my face, eyes searching for something. "Have you been eating enough? Do you eat before you practice?"

"Er...stress? I'm not stressed." I make a face at her. "Eat before practice? No." I wonder if I should mention that I'm not hungry. If I needed to eat, I'd be hungry, right?

"You ought to eat something to boost your energy before practice, and make sure you drink plenty of fluids." She pauses for a moment, but when I don't say anything, she goes on, "Try getting some more sleep-- that should help you from feeling so tired." She turns and looks to Oishi, who straightens at her gaze.

"Nurse Kamiya?" he asks, obviously trying to figure out what she wants.

"Make sure he only does light exercises until this is past; I won't have him working to the point of exhaustion." Nurse Kamiya looks back to me and instructs, "Do what your coach and captain tell you." That said, she turns and approaches her desk.

"Ah, what about his bruises?" Oishi tentatively speaks, though he looks much relieved.

"Most active kids will get banged up, Oishi." She's smiling now, looking at me. "Especially if they overdo it. If Echizen says they're nothing to worry about, we don't need to worry."

At least _somebody_ agrees with me.

"So...what's wrong with me?" my voice floats up, though I hadn't meant to say anything.

Nurse Kamiya and Oishi look to me. The other girls in the office stop giggling, and look in my direction. Great. Now everybody's looking at me. What did I say?

"It looks like you might have a cold. Maybe you're overly stressed, or working too hard." She pauses, waiting for me to refute her. When I don't say anything, she goes on, "Unless there's more? Is anything else hurting?"

My tongue feels like a rock in my mouth. I shake my head; I don't know what she's looking for.

"Well, if you don't feel better soon, go see your family doctor. Also, if that fever doesn't break, go on and get a checkup. If anything-- anything at all starts to hurt, talk to your coach, or your parents." I think Nurse Kamiya sounds an awful lot like captain Tezuka. She sounds like she's giving orders, not telling me how to get well.

"Thank you, Nurse Kamiya." Oishi bows before the nurse. "About that fever...do you think Echizen should go on to class?"

"If you want, you can stay here, Echizen." Nurse Kamiya sits at her desk. "You can rest in that cot for first period if you're not feeling up to studying. If you don't feel any better by then, call your parents and have someone pick you up."

"Thank you, Nurse Kamiya." Oishi says quietly, and nudges me.

I look at Oishi, and wonder what he wants me to do. "Ah, thank you very much." I say, trying to keep my voice down.

Nurse Kamiya nods and goes back to work.

There's no way I'm staying in this little room for a whole hour. I feel better after sitting down, anyways. I kick my feet off the cot, and put my school slippers back on.

"You're not going to rest?" Oishi asks, eyebrows knitting together. He leans towards me, and sets his hand on my shoulder. "You're supposed to take it easy, Echizen." He looks concerned, but not so much as yesterday.

"I don't feel bad, co-captain." I glare at my socks. "She said I should get more sleep and eat more, not skip class."

Oishi laughs. "I guess you don't feel too bad, then." Smiling now, Oishi stands a little straighter and turns to the door. "See you at practice, then. Homeroom is about to start, so don't dawdle!"

"Yes, sir." I mumble, rolling my eyes. What a strange start to my day.

"All right, is everyone warmed up?" Oishi calls out. "Everyone, take ten laps around the courts! Once we do that, first years swing your racquets 500 times. Eiji, Momoshiro, Inui, Kaido and I will work on the menu Inui set up for everyone. Fuji, Taka play a couple of sets until you're called over. Everyone else is to practice on their own."

I blink. My name wasn't called, but Oishi is looking straight at me. My co-captain makes no move to join the other players starting laps. Instead, he moves in front of me before I can get away

I don't want to have this conversation. A big part of me wants to ignore Oishi and just run with everyone else. Instead of doing that, I just stand there, staring. Oishi definitely looks like he's going to lecture me now.

"Echizen, you're practicing with the first years today," Oishi intones, voice barring any discussion. "I spoke with Ryuzaki and she and I agree," his racket smacks against his palm, emphasizing his sentences, "absolutely no hard workouts until you feel up to it." Oishi looks at me with determination, smiling his 'let's all work hard together' smile.

I can't believe he's actually telling me to work out with the first years. "Can't I at least practice with non-varsity?" If I can't practice with the regulars, I at least want to be able to play a _match_-- not run after balls.

Oishi ignores me. Even my complaints can't keep him from getting into his pep talk. "Inui wrote out a menu for you--" he strikes a distinctly meditative pose, putting two fists near his chest, "breath _deeply!_" Oishi demonstrates, looking like he's trying to puff up like a blowfish." He's really getting into this.

"And stretch! Also, most importantly, eat your fruits and vegetables! And be sure to drink milk." Oishi beams, finishing up his little pep talk. "Then you'll be back on your feet in no time. We'll work you back up to competitive level."

"Co-captain!" What does he mean 'competitive' level? He can't drop me from my starting position because I've been off my game, can he?

Great. Stretches, deep breathing and more milk. Just great.

"Stick with the first years," Oishi orders, and takes off, strong and steady, joining the regulars at the front.

I look dubiously at the panting first-years. They're at the opposite end of the regulars; so far back they're almost in the front. I don't want to stick with them; everybody passes them.

But running laps in the back of the line is better than Oishi taking me back up to the stupid nurse's office. I step in line and run laps. With the first years.

After the team warms up together, we separate into our parts of the courts-- regulars on the first two courts, freshmen just in front, and everybody else competing for the remaining courts or doing drills on the sidelines.

I sigh. It's strange being on the other side of the fence...I can still see Kawamura and Fuji playing an intense match, but from over here it feels like we're on completely different worlds.

"I told you," Horio is gabbing again. How can he have enough air to talk after all of that panting? "they were gonna kick him outa practice!" Horio flexes his wrists, ignoring Katsuo's frantic gestures. "I mean, I bet even _I_ could play better than Echizen right now!"

Horio is always saying stuff like that. Talking about other people's weaknesses. But today, he's not the only one talking about my so-called "demotion." Around me, I can hear Arai and other second years talking about the "open position."

I'm used to hearing people talk about me. Used to all sorts of rumors. But somehow, listening to the gossip in Seigaku, listening to all the other students talk about me falling out...I feel like a ghost listening in on his own funeral.

"Horio!" Katsuo finally yells to get the cocky kid's attention. "Ryoma hasn't given up his spot! You'd better stop saying stuff like that." His eyes shine, and he clenches his hands together.

"Yeah, we're still going to be cheering for him, Horio. Ryoma is playing for all of us freshmen!" Kachiro joins in. He looks like he's defending his father, not me. I'm their classmate. I don't know why those two always leap to my defense; I certainly never asked them to.

"Che!" Horio says, sticking his nose in the air.

"Waa, it's so hot out. I don't know how I'll get through practice!" Kachiro whines, but his face brightens in a moment. "Hey, did you guys see that comedy show last night?"

"Un!" Katsuo nods fervently. "The game show with the idols in a food fight?" Katsuo laughs, "Yeah, I saw that, too! It was great, wasn't it?"

"But not as good as yesterday's new issue of Shounen Jump!" Horio jumps in, eager to lead the conversation. "Did you read this week's Naruto? It was so good!"

Katsuo nods and smiles with Kachiro. "Oh, yeah, I did read that yesterday!" He looks like he's going to say more, but they all stop talking when they hear a call from the sidelines.

"First years, enough gabbing! Start swinging." Some third eggs us on. _He's_ not the one who has to swing his stupid racket again and again. I hate drills.

We line up and start swinging, but I can't get the rhythm right. My joints ache and I get tired a lot faster than usual. I close my eyes and resolve to keep moving. My shoulder is starting to throb, so I toss the racket to my other hand. No one says anything, but I notice a few of the upper classmen looking at me.

I give a few more swings with my right hand, but soon give up. I stand in between the rows of freshmen and wonder if it's really been months since I came to this school. I don't know anybody outside of the tennis club, and I don't know half of the freshmen's names.

I shove my hands in my pockets, and go to watch Fuji and Kawamura's practice match. They're rallying the ball all over the course, neither yielding. Kawamura's powerful counters have Fuji dashing from corner to corner, but Fuji isn't giving in...he hits the ball, spinning it in a way most people don't return. Fuji wins this point.

I feel like I'm watching their match from outside of my body...like I'm floating somewhere in the clouds. I picture the clouds in my mind, but my eyes won't move away from the court.

"Can you see well from there?" Fuji's voice pulls me down. He sounds like he always does; vaguely amused, but reserved and assertively boyish.

"Ah, Fuji!" I am surprised at his sudden appearance. When did he get over here?

"You've been staring at the same spot for the whole set." Fuji explains.

Weird how he knows what I was thinking. He's probably, just good at reading my expressions, though. Mom always says that I'm an "open book," though I guess she's the only one who says that.

Kawamura jogs over, towel swung around his neck. "Hey, Echizen!" he greets me cheerfully; his racket is on the bench. "You look like you were dreaming." Kawamura grins, good naturedly. "How do you like getting away from the regular's training schedule?"

I make a face.

Fuji laughs. "Well, _I_ wouldn't mind getting out of practice once in a while." Fuji's lips twitch, enjoying my obvious disgust. "Things get boring doing the same things with the same people all the time."

"Don't mind, don't mind!" Kawamura sings out in English. He's means what most English people would put 'don't worry,' but like most English words used by the Japanese; they lose most of the intended meaning.

"You'll kick this cold in no time!" Kawamura looks genuinely convinced. He's a nice guy. "Don't let anybody get you down," he encourages. I guess he noticed all of the gossip. "You'll be feeling better in no time!"

"Well, I think it's good for you, Echizen. You ought to socialize with tennis club members your own age." Fuji offers.

I don't know if he thinks I should thank him for telling me that or yelling at him for being a liar. Fuji says weird things.

"Who knows? You might make some good friends in the freshmen practice." Kawamura encourages. He stops short when he sees my frown, and purses his lips. "I guess you need a pick-me-up...how about I bring you something healthy, tomorrow? I'll make you something great!"

"Oh, you don't have to do that, Kawamura," I say, but really, I'm glad he's trying to make me feel better. I'm glad they still think of me like a member of the team, but I can't help but add, "You guys are gonna get lectured if you don't start practicing, though."

Fuji laughs. "I guess you're right." He turns to look at Kawamura, "shall I finish up this game in five or ten minutes, Taka?" Fuji's tone is light, teasing. "Oh, Echizen? You should get back to practice, too. They're almost to 300 swings."

"See you, Echizen!" Kawamura waves. "Try hard!" And the two of them jog back to their court.

I smile, and head back over to practice swinging with everybody else. My right arm could use a little extra work...I can really get lost in the rhythm, now.

I don't have to feel a thing, watching from the clouds.

* * *

tbc...

Thoughts?


	3. Part Three: Fainting spell

**Title:** Double Fault (a "Prince of Tennis" fanfic)  
**Warnings:** Mature themes.

**Author: **(: attackfish, LJ: bowlofkaki)

**Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis does not belong to me. I am not making any money off of this. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary: **It seems to Ryoma that summer training has gotten too rough for hot and humid Japan. To make matters worse, Momoshiro and Oishi have taken notice of the first year's uncomfortable disposition. Ryoma seems to be more sick than he realized. First person present, switching PoV.

* * *

(Echizen's PoV)

It's Saturday, the day before Seigaku plays Rokkaku. I feel good; loose and rested...or at least I feel better than I've felt lately. It's been a trying week and a half, though. It's been nothing but drills, drills and no more competition than "who can pick up the most balls." I'm not cut out for that sort of thing.

I'm really stretching, getting into the afternoon warm-ups. The stretches all feel okay, no aches, but I still feel out of practice-- like I haven't played in months instead of days.

I hope I can play tomorrow. I want to see how I match up against that first year captain. Nobody can keep me from playing in the game tomorrow. I need to get my game back.

Ryuzaki calls us over to give her pep talk. She doesn't have to wait long to get the team there; everyone wants to know the lineup she's decided on. "All right everyone, listen up!" the old woman bellows, looking up and down the line. "We'll be playing a few simple practice matches today. I won't have you all tired before the game tomorrow." Ryuzaki is a mountain of easy confidence. "Before I announce the lineup, your co-captain has a few words to say."

Ryuzaki steps aside, and Oishi comes to the front. His eyes are shining with determination, and he seems exhilarated. "Everyone!" Oishi says. His voice is not as loud as Ryuzaki's, but the intensity in his voice makes everyone stop to listen. "We've got an important match tomorrow. It's a game we need to win! As you know, if we win this, we'll be in the finals. We've been training hard, and I think that if we play like we've been doing, Rokkaku doesn't stand a chance!"

There is a scattering of excited calls from the upperclassmen. Oishi nods, approving. He steps back in line for Ryuzaki to announce the lineup. Instead, she lists off regulars to play practice matches, "Kaido, Inui take court A. Kikumaru and Oishi, you two play Fuji and Kawamura in court B. Momoshiro, Echizen, take court C."

I can't stop smirking. I'm back in the practice! I feel like I've made up my lost week. I'm not even listening to whatever coach Ryuzaki's talking about-- I'm too busy thinking about tomorrow's game.

When Ryuzaki is done, Momoshiro claps his hand on my shoulder. We head straight for our court. It feels good to be before the net again...I feel like I could fly.

Momo holds up a ball, indicating that he's ready to serve. I nod, and bounce a little to prepare for my return. Momo's serve is a hard one, but I'm able to catch the ball early and return it with a drop shot. Momo has already approached the net, however, and hits a high lob to the baseline. I can't get to the ball in time.

Momo is on the attack. Instead of playing offensive returns, however, I'm mostly on the defense, trying to keep Momo from overcoming me. He has a mean serve and volley. Momo wins three games before I finally start to counter-attack.

"Yes!" It's a relief to finally win a game. So much adrenalin is running through me that I don't feel tired anymore. I keep my service game. Suddenly I'm running down most of Momo's returns, and _he's_ being driven back, but Momo is grinning like a lunatic. He looks like he's enjoying the game.

Neither of us play like it's a practice match, and we're still battling at 5-6 in Momo's favor. He needs one more game, but if I can win this one, we'll go into a tie-breaker. I'm breathing hard, and I go for the ball, rising in no-man's land, but I hit it wrong and it lands at Momo's feet, bouncing softly to shoulder level. I deserve the ace Momo feeds me, for being so stupid.

I'm thinking about the count, when I serve. The court is oddly silent. Momo plays a great return, making me dash after the ball. We're hitting the ball back and fourth until Momo plays a ball near the net. I'm too far back, so I run for it, but I trip and go down hard. I miss the ball, and a quick sequence of those following. Momo wins, 7-5.

We approach the net. Instead of giving me a handshake, Momo pulls me down to mess with my hair. I grumble, but am unable to get him to let me go. It figures.

Momo doesn't seem to think I played badly. He's grinning like we just won the nationals, patting me hard on the back and everything.

So my game isn't flawless, but who would expect it to be after a week of nothing but drills? I try not to let my less-than-stellar performance drag me down.

"See to it that you clean up that knee," Ryuzaki greets me. She and the others have been watching our game for the last set or so.

I stare down at my knee-- I hadn't noticed the scrape before. It's bleeding a lot, but I don't really feel much more than a twinge.

Coach jerks a finger to Kachiro and the first aid kit, but she says, "You looked good out there, Echizen."

"It _feels_ good to finally be playing again," I say, hoping she'll get the point. I need to be in that game tomorrow.

"But," Ryuzaki's eyes are hard as she speaks, "your speed has dropped considerably. Many of your moves in the later half of the match were sloppy." Ryuzaki frowns, and looks at the second-year students practicing near our court.

My stomach drops. Will Ryuzaki pull me out of the tournament?

"But," she says slowly, tasting the word, "I think you can work on these things once the tournament ends." Ryuzaki is looking back at me, now, and smiling. "Seigaku is counting on all of our regulars tomorrow. Blow Rokkaku out of the water!"

"Yes, coach!"

Around me, the sound of balls hitting the courts continues.

* * *

(_Kawamura PoV_)

"Get him off the floor," Ryuzaki is saying, voice stern. Inui and I help lift Echizen off the cement stairs and onto the bleachers where the team was cheering moments before. Everyone is staring. Echizen collapsed on the stairs. The referee has gone to get the first aid kit.

Echizen looks thin and pale, bruises all too apparent in the sunlight. Everyone's crowding around the bench, now, even though Ryuzaki asks us to give them some space. Echizen is still.

"Those bruises," Arai sounds shocked. The whole tennis team is staring at the boy lying on the bleachers, even Rokkaku is trying to see what's going on. Around us, the other regulars shift uncomfortably. Eiji is biting his lip, and Inui stares at nothing in particular. I can barely do more than stare. Everything is a blur.

Kaido is putting his tennis equipment away, and reminds Aoi to do the same. Who would have thought he'd be so level-headed?

After a few minutes of awkward silence, the referee is back with a cold towel, a medical kit and two men carrying a stretcher. "Ah, looks like he's coming around," he says mildly, and sets the towel on Echizen's forehead.

I look to the bleachers and sure enough, Echizen is blinking at everyone.

"You all right, kid?" the referee asks, "Can you hear my voice?" but he doesn't pause to see if the first year replies. "It's been really hot today, better take it easy," he advises.

"Should we call an ambulance?" Oishi is asking.

"No!" Echizen says, trying to sit up. "No, I'm all right. I just got too hot," he protests. He looks like a ghost.

The court is empty, but my eyes are drawn to the net, swaying gently in a breeze I can't feel. The other first years are talking nervously on the sidelines, but don't come closer.

Ryuzaki gives the referee a small bow. "Thank you for bringing the first aid kit. We'll see to it that he is checked out."

"Checked out?" Momoshiro looks uneasy, "you mean at the hospital? He's okay, right?" He shifts, uneasy, not liking the thought of his friend's ailment.

"I'm fine, Momo." Echizen says from the bench, but no one is listening to him.

I smile reassuringly. "Can you stand?" I offer a hand.

"Thanks, Kawamura," the kid mumbles. He puts his hand in mine, and I gently pull him to his feet.

"Steady, there," I say, but the freshman just makes a face.

The referee nods to Ryuzaki and tells Echizen, "Take care of yourself. Don't over do it."

"Oi, Echizen," Momoshiro looks nervous, "Don't scare me like that!" He grins, but it's clear that he's shaken up. "You went down like a rock!"

"Echizen," Inui steps forward, "are you feeling okay?"

He shrugs, indifferent. Everyone is worrying about him, and he still manages to look like the same old kid. "I'm all right," he mumbles, and gives his hat a tug.

"Hey, kido," Eiji is peering at Echizen's neck intently, "are you itchy? You've got a rash!" Eiji frowns, bright eyes going over the Echizen's form. "It's on your arms, too!"

"Hah?" Echizen lifts an arm, and stares at the tiny red dots dusting it. "I didn't even notice they were there..." he frowns at the offending marks, turning his arm around.

"Do you have any allergies?" Oishi offers, always logical.

Inui stares at Echizen hard, seeing something we don't see. He frowns.

I wonder what Inui thinks of this? I can tell by his expression that he's thinking through statistics, weighing possibilities. A chill comes over me, and suddenly I'm anxious to see Echizen to the doctor.

"Kawamura, you come with Ryoma and I." Coach Ryuzaki announces. "We're going to get this guy looked at-- and no arguments, Ryoma." She turns a stern eye to him, "While you're at a tournament sanctioned by the school, you're my responsibility. And I'm taking you to see a doctor."

"But the nurse said it was a cold!" Echizen protests, ignoring the coach's warning. He looks anxious now.

"She also said to see a doctor if things continued," Oishi counters. "Do you still have a fever?"

This is news to me. I didn't know Echizen had a fever at all! I look to Echizen, but he's standing rock still. Defiant. "How should I know," he snaps.

"Enough!" Ryuzaki orders. "Kawamura will carry you to the doctor if you won't walk!" There's no arguing with that.

I push Echizen along, away from the crowd. We get in the coach's car without a word and the ride to the doctor's office is long and tense. Echizen looks out of it. He rests his head against the window the whole way.

The waiting room is brightly lit and boasts nearly thirty chairs. The walls are covered in bright posters, and there are many children's books on a small shelf. Ryuzaki took us to a pediatrician, not the hospital. I remember the match with Fudomine, and remember she took us to see a sports doctor. Why the change?

While coach Ryuzaki is filling out what paperwork, Echizen and I sit side by side. We don't speak. I sigh, and wonder if I should try to break the silence. The waiting room isn't too crowded, but we're waiting for more than a half hour before the nurse moves us to the second waiting room.

Really, the "second waiting room" is a narrow hallway with about six chairs. It's right next to the room with all of the beds. There are curtains to pull around individual cots, but there isn't anyone in the cots. Over to the side a foreign girl has a mask on, breathing in some misty medicine.

My eyes wonder to the other side of the room, and I see a black curtain. When the doctor comes out to check on the foreign girl and her Japanese escort, I see a table, but not much else. It must be another patient waiting on a cot.

The nurse comes back over to us. "Does he speak Japanese?" the nurse asks, wary. I stifle my laughter, but Echizen looks annoyed.

"Yes," coach answers. She looks amused.

"What would you like me to tell the doctor you're here for?" she asks politely, pen poised above a clipboard.

Frowning, Ryuzaki says, "Although he didn't play, he fainted during a tennis match. I already filled out the form. Shouldn't we just tell the doctor?"

_"After_ the match," Echizen is quick to correct. "It gets hot in the bleachers, you know." he pleads. His sharp eyes are pointed at the nurse.

"He's been tired lately," I offer. "And all of those bruises..."

The nurse nods, and adds something to the papers. "We'll put you on this cot," she leads us to a bed on the far side of the room. All of the cots have stuffed animals on them, but Echizen tosses his to the side. The nurse pulls the curtain around us while we wait for the doctor.

Something tells me this isn't going to be a run of the mill checkup.

* * *

(Echizen PoV)

"I'm going to take your temperature, now," the nurse warns me. The thermometer beeps at 38.6, and the nurse writes this down. "Now we're going to check your height and weight. Come right this way, please," she instructs. Why did she even take us to a cot if she's just going to make us move again?

I scoot off the bed and wearily follow her.

"Go ahead and take off your shoes and step on the scale," she directs, and she moves the weights around. ""40 kilo, and" she glances behind me, "151 centimeters."." The nurse looks at coach Ryuzaki. "It looks like he's lost 2 kilo...when were these figures taken?"

Two kilo? I stare at the nurse in disbelief.

"At the beginning of the school year when he joined the tennis club." Ryuzaki frowns at me. "Two kilo, huh? That's quite a bit of weight there, Ryoma. Make sure you eat enough, really." Even though Ryuzaki is scolding me, it's reassuring to have her act like she always does instead of fret.

We follow the nurse back to my cot, and she steps out. We're only waiting a few minutes before the doctor comes in. "Echizen Ryoma," he reads, and looks up to smile at me. The doctor is an older man, and very wrinkly. "What brings you here on this hot Sunday afternoon?"

Ryuzaki breaks in before I can even breathe. "It could be due to the heat, but he fainted after a match this morning." she glances to me, and then back to the doctor. "He also has several large, purplish marks on his arms and legs. Also, there's that strange rash..."

"I just got too hot," I say for the umpteenth time. "It's hot today."

The doctor gives me his full attention. He must never get outside, as pale as he is. An 'indoors person,' as my mom would say. He must work a lot.

"What can you tell me, Echizen?" The doctor is the perfect picture of mildly interested professionalism. "We need to get to the bottom of this," he tries to explain, "so please, tell me as much as you can."

I lick my lips. "Well," I pause, and the doctor urges me on. "I guess I get a lot of headaches, sometimes." I pause again, hesitant. "I've been tired all the time, lately. And my joints hurt more than usual, too...no matter how much I stretch or warm-up, they just ache and ache."

The doctor is frowning at me, but coach Ryuzaki seems impassive. Kawamura, on the other hand, is surprised, and looks a little troubled.

I swallow hard, shifting uncomfortably.

"Let's take a look at that rash, shall we?" and just like that, the doctor takes my arm. He turns it around gingerly, and pauses on the biggest bruise. He presses on the mark, asking, "Does this hurt?"

I shake my head.

"Do your gums ever bleed when you brush your teeth, Echizen?" the doctor's face is grave, serious. His eyes are fixed on mine as I answer.

"I guess so, sometimes. Don't everybody's?" I look to Kawamura, but can't hold his gaze.

"Do they bleed at other times, for no reason?" he continues. I nod.

The doctor puts his hands on my neck, feeling the swollen lymph nodes there. He feels under my chin as well, and then instructs me to tilt my head forward. He runs his fingers up and down the ridges on my neck.

A cold shiver goes down my spine. I ask, "What are you looking for?" I want to know, but I'm afraid to hear the answer.

"Just checking a few things," the doctor says, noncommittal.

"You're looking for _some_thing," I argue.

"It could be a virus. It could be a number of other things-- we won't know what we're fighting until we do some blood work."

This gets my attention. "You mean draw blood?" I look from Kawamura to Ryuzaki, hoping they'll tell me I'm wrong. The thought makes my stomach lurch.

"It's nothing much. Just a simple routine," the doctor says, like _that_ is supposed to make me feel better. The doctor opens a drawer, and pulls a few things out. He swabs the inside of my elbow with a prep pad. I can't look away from his hand. He brings the needle down, piercing my skin. It stings, and a kind of throbbing runs up my arm. I clench my teeth, and watch my blood fill the vial.

The doctor pulls the needle out, swabs the spot again and putts a cotton ball where the needle was. "Hold that down. Press hard." After a minute or so, he puts a band-aid over the spot.

The doctor looks at Ryuzaki again. "We'll get the results in by morning," the doctor says, and stands up. "They'll phone his family with the results."

"We have to _wait_?" I find myself asking. I give the doctor a dubious look. "I don't want to come _back!"_

"Now, Echizen, the doctor has been kind to you." Kawamura chides.

Kawamura may be soft-hearted, but he can be as bad as Oishi, sometimes. I offer him a glare for siding with the doctor.

"We should be grateful to him," he finishes.

"You're sure you can't tell us now?" Ryuzaki asks. She isn't in the mood to wait, either. "You looked like you were looking for something very specific."

"As I said, it could be a number of things. It could be mononucleosis, for example. We won't know until the lab sends us the results, and that won't be until the morning." The doctor shifts on his feet, and looks at his watch. "If you'll please excuse me."

And with that, he leaves.

I feel very cold and tired. What's going on? Why didn't he write out a prescription?

Kawamura claps his hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry." He smiles reassuringly. "He said that it could be a virus. Don't look so down!" Easy for him to say.

"We ought to be going," Ryuzaki says, "the others are probably anxious to hear from you. Are you coming, Ryoma?"

I'm cold and tired. I just want to go home and get some sleep. "No thank you."

"Yeah, you go home and rest up." Kawamura says easily. "You'll feel better by the morning." Kawamura offers, ever the optimist. His cheerfulness makes me feel a little better.

"Yeah," I mumble, and put my hat back on.

Ryuzaki leads us out of the clinic. We drive to my home in silence. Coach pulls the car down my street, and comes to a slow stop in front of my gate.

"Get some rest, Ryoma." Ryuzaki orders. She's waiting for me to invite her inside. I _should_ invite her inside for cold drinks to say thank you for taking me to the doctor, but I don't want to. I don't want to tell my dad about me seeing a doctor.

They're going to call in a prescription tomorrow, anyways. We'll go pick the medicine up at the pharmacy and that will be that. No need to even bring up the doctor at all.

"Thank you for the ride," I bow, and sling my tennis bag over my shoulder and go inside.

I drop the bag at the doorway and sit there by the door, feeling very tired. After a few minutes pass, I haul myself up and go to the room next to the kitchen to lay down. I flop on the pillows in front of the television and wait to fall asleep.

I nap on the cushions for a while before my dad comes in. "Yo, young man!" he sings through grinning teeth. "What's this, what's this? Are you going to ask me to play a match again?" he's grinning wide.

I assume he wants to know about the second half of my tennis match. "Seigaku won," I grumble into my pillow.

"Heeh," he sounds thoughtful. "And you? How was your match?" Dad is looking down at me quizzically.

"I didn't play. We won all the matches, though." My voice sounds gruff and gravely. I want some water.

"You look kinda pasty there, brat," dad says and squats beside me. "How are you feeling?" he puts a hand on my forehead.

"I'm sick," I grumble, one eye glaring up at him. "Leave me alone," I protest. My headache is back, and I'm achy all over.

"Che," he frowns. "Stubborn brat, you played when you're like this?" he asks dubiously. "You ought to let your body rest once in a while, or it'll give out on you," he lectures, and rubs my back. "Never worry, though! Nanako and your mother will fix you right up."

I wonder if I should tell him about the visit to the clinic. The doctor said they'll call tomorrow anyway, so...he'll find out then. But still, an uneasy feeling takes root in my stomach. I don't want to keep this to myself. With a shake of my head, I shove these thoughts aside.

The doctor's visit doesn't matter. The doctor will call with a prescription and I'll be stuck in bed for a while, but It'll all blow over. The whole thing about fainting after Kaido and Aoi's match will just be a distant memory. Maybe the doctor will call and say it was all for nothing, that we have nothing to worry about. I'll feel better in the morning. In the morning, everything will go back to normal.

Tomorrow can't come fast enough.

* * *

…tbc…

Note (in response to a few comments): I have characters in this story mention race simply because it's a topic that's not addressed often in fanfiction...and because I thought it would be interesting to reflect on my own experiences (as a foreign-born person) in Japan. Whether or not Ryoma is actually bi-racial or not, I don't know. But I don't see any reason why he shouldn't be.

Thoughts?


	4. Part Four: Family Doctor

**Title:** Double Fault (a "Prince of Tennis" fanfic)  
**Warnings:** Mature themes.

**Author: **(: attackfish, LJ: bowlofkaki)

**Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis does not belong to me. I am not making any money off of this. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary: **It seems to Ryoma that summer training has gotten too rough for hot and humid Japan. To make matters worse, Momoshiro and Oishi have taken notice of the first year's uncomfortable disposition. Ryoma seems to be more sick than he realized. First person present, switching PoV.

* * *

(Echizen PoV)

"Ryoma, wake up," Nanako pulls on my shoulder urgently.

I groan, staring up at her. "What?" I croak out. Briefly I wonder if Momo's here to pick me up. I glance at the clock-- 10:06. School's already started. I blink, trying to piece things together.

"A doctor called and he said to bring you in at 11:00! He said that it's urgent!" she sounds alarmed. "Why would a doctor say that, Ryoma?"

I lick my lips. "Oh, coach Ryuzaki took me to the doctor yesterday. He was gonna call about a prescription."

Nanako blinks at me. "You already went to see the doctor?" she looks very worried, chewing on her lip. "But he didn't say anything about a prescription..." Nanako gives me a long look.

I look away. I'm still tired; I don't want to get dressed, much less go to the doctor's again.

"Get dressed quickly," Nanako suggests, "I'll make you some toast." Nanako is a flurry of motion, in a hurry to fix breakfast. Before I can tell her I don't want to go, she leaves my room.

When I get downstairs, my father and cousin are sitting in the kitchen. Dad is unusually quiet, sitting there at the table. He looks tenser than I've ever seen him

Somewhere, my mother is in a business meeting, or maybe she's making calls to clients.

Our house is too still. I want to say something, but I'm distracted by the sound of the washer running in the next room. The washer stops.

"I'm ready," I say quietly, speaking only to announce my entrance. The silence smothers anything else I might have said.

"Eat," dad gestures to the toast. His plates are in the sink, already. Why does he get to eat miso when I'm stuck with toast, anyways?

Grudgingly, I sit at the table and take a bite of toast. It's just as dry and tasteless as it was yesterday. Completely without flavor and crumbling in my mouth. I sip some milk to get it down, and take a few more bites. "Thank you for this meal," I say, and clap my hands together in the traditional way.

The noise makes Nanako start. Ordinarily I leave off the clap. "Aren't you hungry?" she asks.

I shake my head. "Not really," and take another sip of the milk. We sit at the table like this for five long minutes. I don't want to be the first to move-- I don't want to go anywhere at all.

The silence creeps over us like a dark, smoky mist, curling around chairs and walls until it fills the entire room with its presence. No one speaks, no one moves.

Dad clears his throat, breaking the silence. Nanako gets up then, and goes to the room with the family shrine-- the room she sleeps in. I'm still sitting, watching dad call a taxi. I sigh. I guess I have to go anyways. So I get up to wait by the door.

"All ready?" dad asks. He's quiet, but pacing up and down the corridor.

"Yes, uncle," Nanako answers, holding a bag to her.

"Ah," I say, surprised. "You're coming, too?"

"Oh, Ryoma." Nanako sighs, a hint of exasperation edging her words. "Since your mother can't come herself, I'm sure she'd like me to make certain you two get along all right." She brushes the bag off, looking worried again. "Besides, I have a few questions for the doctor, too..."

I look to my dad, hoping he'll tell her not to come, but he's not paying attention.

The trip to the clinic is a blur. I'm sure Tokyo traffic isn't any better than usual, but I don't remember stopping at any lights, or watching cars speed by. I don't know exactly when we get back to the little clinic, but here I am again, walking up the same stairs as yesterday.

The waiting room is more crowded than before. I'm expecting a long wait, but the attendant comes right up to us, saying, "The doctor will see you now."

Behind us, I can hear a harried woman asking, "Why do _they_ get to go in? My daughter has been waiting for over an hour!" Beside her a pudgy toddler buries her face in her mother's dress.

"Sometimes there are emergencies," our nurse says firmly,

I had to wait for over an hour to see the doctor, yesterday. Why am I an _emergency_ today? I feel just as tired, and have just as many bruises. The whole thing makes me nervous. Exactly what is wrong with me? Why didn't the doctor just tell us over the phone and give me a prescription?

The nurse leads us past both waiting rooms. I halfway expect her to take my temperature and weight again, but she stops in front of a bed. My dad lifts me onto the bed, and the nurse pulls the curtain shut. My dad shifts from foot to foot, unable to pace in the confined area. Nanako sits at the edge of my bed.

The doctor doesn't have us wait long; he comes in moments after I sat down. The old doctor looks to me, and then to my dad. "I have the results of the blood test," he begins, opening a manila folder. He shuffles through the pages, though I can see there aren't that many. At last, he closes the folder again, and sets it down beside me, putting a hand over it as if he means to guard the thing.

My head is filled with a million different scenarios. Exactly what is wrong with me?

"Sir?" Nanako inquires, hesitant, "what are the results of the test?"

"His white blood count is 300, 000," the doctor looks at our blank expressions and elaborates, "in other words it's very high. On the other hand, however, his platelets are very low, only 60,000. That's why he's getting all of those bruises; when platelets are low there is a lot of bleeding under the skin."

"So" dad says slowly, "what do these numbers mean? What's wrong with my son?" he stares the doctor down, like he's trying to intimidate the man into telling him.

The doctor coughs, avoiding my dad's intent gaze. "We can't be for sure. We need run some more tests to figure out exactly what it is. It could be any number of things—"

"Like?" my dad interrupts, his voice is hard and commanding.

"Mr. Echizen, your son is very ill. He could have a severe case of anemia, complicated by some infection."

"But you don't think so," my dad prods. "Get to the point."

"Hey," I call out, "this is _my_ body we're talking about. Isn't anybody going to talk to me?" I frown at my dad and the doctor.

The doctor coughs again, looking away, chagrined. "There is a chance that you may have leukemia, Ryoma."

Something about the doctor's wording makes me think 'this isn't good.' I turn to my dad, saying, "What's that?" in English.

My dad looks as puzzled as I feel, his gaze traveling from person to person before it finally settles on Nanako. "What exactly is that?" he echoes in Japanese.

Nanako looks like she's going to start crying any minute now. She's too upset to answer.

"Leukemia is a form of cancer, Mr. Echizen." the doctor looks away for a moment, before looking to me. He looks like he's struggling with something, like he's trying to stay calm. I guess he's not used to telling families their kid has cancer. Geeze.

Why is this happening to me?

"It's imperative that you get him to the hospital as soon as possible. I called the Kokuritsugan Center," the National Cancer Center, "and they have a bed ready."

"Woah, woah. Is this absolutely necessary?" my dad is asking, "I want a second opinion." He looks angry, which surprises me for an instant. He's either goofing around, or he's playing a serious game, but he's never angry. He's the kind of guy who grins in the face of a fight.

Cancer? How could I have cancer? I'm trying to remember anything I've ever heard about it, but anything I think of isn't good. People die from cancer. Smoking causes cancer. I don't smoke. Why do I have cancer?

"Do you mean to say Kokuritsugan already has a bed ready? You want us to leave _now?_" Nanako asks the doctor while _he's_ addressing my father.

"Kokuritsugan is where you'll get your second opinion. They have the leading equipment available—"

"What should we bring?" Nanako's voice flutters above the two men's argument. She asks question after question. "Do they allow only immediate family in? What should we bring?" she gives a little gasp, "What about school?" Nanako is a swirl of emotion, while I'm sitting on the cot next to her.

I'm too tired to do much more than that.

"You mean you aren't sure of this 'diagnosis.'" His whole body shakes as he tries to take in all of this information.

"I already said that, Mr. Echizen. Ryoma will check in to have some tests run. They will give him the best treatment available."

"But you're not sure." He prods, waiting for the answer he wants to hear.

"No. I'm not sure. I can't make any conclusive—"

"Oh! We have to tell mother!" she clutches at her bag, "Oh, where was she going today?"

"I don't want to go to the hospital!" I say, and everyone stops talking to look at me. "What about tennis? I can't practice at the hospital."

"It's only for a few tests, Ryoma. It could be a case of mononucleosis-- the symptoms are very similar. We just need to make sure." The doctor brushes my concerns aside. He looks to my father again, "You need to get going as soon as possible. Pack a few things for Ryoma; he could be staying for a while." With this, the doctor picks up his folder and steps out.

Just like that, we're alone again. My dad picks me up like I'm made of glass, but is quick to set me back down when I kick his shins.

"We're not going to have to stay long, right?" I ask, but neither Nanako nor my dad knows the answer to that question.

No one needs to lead us out, this time. We walk past the little girl and her mother from earlier. They're still waiting in the little hall. I smile at the little girl. She's so small that her feet don't touch the ground, allowing her to swing her feet.

_"Now_ can we see the doctor?" the mother gripes to the nurse, eyeing me. "That little boy looks fine to me, why did he get to see the doctor?"

"Mind your own business, lady," my dad growls, putting his hand on my shoulder. "He'll see you soon enough."

I turn around to watch them as we leave. I'd rather be waiting line like that little girl.

"Don't worry, Ryoma," Nanako says, and takes my hand. "Everything will be okay."

I just nod. There's nothing I can say.

* * *

…tbc…

a/n: Leukemia is not the plot in this story; it is the catalyst. I hope to explore how different people (friends, family, peers/society and of course the patient himself) _react _to a diagnosis of cancer. Obviously, this is not a light subject, but you can expect there to be light moments in this story. After all, there are light moments in anyone's life, no matter how difficult it may be.

Statistically speaking, most people who get leukemia are kids. The peak age is about 4, and they're most commonly diagnosed from 2-7.(Keen, Nancy. Childhood Leukemia. 2nd ed. Sebastopol, CA O'Reilly & Associates, 1999. ) But diagnosis does happen in later years.

Author Heather Moehn says in When Someone You Know Has Leukemia., "Anyone can get leukemia. It strikes people of all ages and both sexes. . .because leukemia causes more deaths in children than any other disease, it is often thought of as a childhood illness" (14).

"Acute lymphoblastic (or lymphocytic) leukemia (ALL) can strike at any age, from infancy to old age, but about 80 of ALL patients are younger than age 15." Walking with a Shadow: Surviving Childhood Leukemia by Nanci A Sullivan (4).

**As provided by IARC Worldwide Cancer Incidence Statistics: **All leukemias: (per 100,000) **USA:**CA: LOS ANGELES: Non-Hispanic White: 11.3, Hispanic: 8.5, Japanese: 7.2 San Francisco Bay Area: Non-Hispanic White: 10.8, Hispanic: 8.1, Japanese: 7.2 Hawaii: White: 10.6, Filipino: 8.1, Japanese: 5.6**UK:**(UK,England and Wales): 8.4**JAPAN: **Osaka prefecture: 5.8, Saga prefecture: 8.8, Yamagata prefecture: 4.4, Miyagi Prefecture: 6.0, Nagasaki Prefecture: 5.7

These statistics are no longer available on the current website. Instead, I have linked to a bar-graph (Leukaemia sic, Male (1997) Number of cases age 0-19)generated from the "Cancer Incidence in Five Continents, IARC"

Some people have said that Asians also have lower survival rates, though I've been unable to find any data that supports this idea. For sure, it is rarer for Asians to get cancer... See the link on my bio.

Regardless, treatment options are changing every day, and many nurses and doctors are working hard to help all children, regardless of race.

* * *

…tbc…

Thoughts?


	5. Part Five: Hospital Admission

**Title:** Double Fault (a "Prince of Tennis" fanfic)  
**Warnings:** Mature themes.

**Author: **(: attackfish, LJ: bowlofkaki)

**Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis does not belong to me. I am not making any money off of this. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary: **It seems to Ryoma that summer training has gotten too rough for hot and humid Japan. To make matters worse, Momoshiro and Oishi have taken notice of the first year's uncomfortable disposition. Ryoma seems to be more sick than he realized. First person present, switching PoV.

* * *

(Echizen PoV)

The rush home is a blur. Once we're back home, Nanako and dad are running around in frenzy getting things together. Nanako dashes upstairs ahead of me while my dad fumbles around in the bathroom. I feel oddly detached, watching all of this activity while I'm the only one standing still. I feel like I'm watching somebody else's life.

Nanako rushes back downstairs, saying something about an "amulet." It's probably something she got from a shrine. I walk up the stairs in a haze, and stare down at the half-filled duffle bag. I sit beside it.

How much should I bring? How long will I be there, anyways? The doctor said we're just going in for some tests, so that shouldn't take too long. Just like a physical; lots of waiting, but we'll go home at the end. I've just caught some virus...that mono-something the doctor said.

I can't think about having- anything else. We'll go to that hospital and the doctors will say "he only had the flu all this time," and send me home. I'll probably have to go back to school by the end of the week.

I stuff clothes in my bag mindlessly, and lay on the floor.

It's just dad and I going to the hospital. Nanako is staying behind to tell mom and to watch the house while we're gone. She wants us to call her as soon as we get to the hospital, and dad agrees.

We have to walk to the bus stop, and catch a ride to the train station. From there we'll go to the hospital. We've only got another half a block or so, but it feels so much farther.  
I'm so exhausted from yesterday's activity I can hardly keep up with dad's long strides. I don't see what all the rush is about, anyways.

"We'll miss the next bus if we don't hustle," dad says, his voice oddly serious. "Come here, kid." He takes the duffle bag and puts the straps on my shoulders like a backpack. "I'm gonna carry you there," he explains.

I stare at him. "There's nothing wrong with my feet, dad." I protest, voice flat. "I can walk on my own."

My dad, however, has other ideas, and before I can do anything about it, he has me on his back. He doesn't pay any attention to my complaints.

We run down the road at breakneck speeds, my dad's long legs pumping vigorously as we see the bus chug along, further down the road. It's still a ways off, still coming up a hill. We've only got about thirty seconds before the bus gets there.

My dad is like a man on a mission- I can barely hold on as fast as he's going. Somehow, we make it to the bus stop just as the last person waiting steps up. I'm breathing hard, but my dad seems like he was just walking the whole way.

"Looks like you made it!" the bus driver calls from his seat, smiling cheerfully. My dad grins at him, motioning for one moment.

"Put me down now!" I hiss in his ear, cheeks flaming. Geeze, he didn't _have_ to carry me. There's always another bus, I don't see why we had to scramble to catch _this_ one.

"Here we go," he says, bending down so I can get down. He takes my bag as we board the bus. I take two tickets from the dispenser, and shove them in my pocket.

Luckily for us, there are plenty of seats to sit in- probably because it's late morning on a Tuesday. Everybody except house wives and old people are already at work or school. I sit by a window near the front.

I hope Nanako remembers not to tell anybody about this hospital thing. I'm only going to get a few tests done, so it's not like I'll be there very long. We'll get home before the day is over, if we're lucky. I don't want to even think about staying at the hospital longer than that.

Beside me, my dad stares out the window, lost in thought. The driver goes down a winding street out of our neighborhood and past a stream of shops. We don't stop very often- nobody's waiting at the bus stops, and no one on the bus presses the button to get off. Once we get out of the neighborhoods, though, we stop more often. Shoppers and tourists crowd the bus- Tokyo is busy as ever.

I'm dozing when the driver announces the stop, breaks screeching noisily. My stomach feels like it's half a block back. Around us, other passengers are getting off. I can see a station outside my window. Dad taps my shoulder to tell me "get up," so I do. He drops our fare and our ticket stubs into the box by the driver, and we get off.

The bus stop isn't too far from the subway entrance, so we don't have too far to walk. I sigh, and follow my dad into a line to buy our tickets I'm tired of all this walking. If I'm sick enough to have to go to the hospital, why do I have to walk everywhere?

There are a lot of those automatic ticket machines, so the line isn't as long as it _could_ be. I want to sit down, but there are too many people. As soon as we buy our tickets, dad pulls me along to our exit. I'm not paying attention to anything until we're waiting in line to go through the gates. Everybody's rushing, practically running this way and that. Dad keeps his hand on my shoulder, leading me to the platform.

We're waiting there on the platform, watching other people board their trains. I'm so tired I slump to the ground. I don't care if our train comes in a few seconds- I'm tired and I want to sit. I don't get to sit for long, though; our train pulls up moments later.

On the train, we walk around, looking for an empty seat. It's crowded but not packed. Too bad for me, there aren't any places for me to sit, or even grab a hold of the handles hanging from the ceiling. My dad grabs one of the handles, and puts his other hand on my shoulder.

"Excuse me," a woman says very slowly, in English. "You probably don't understand what I'm saying, but do you need a seat?" A young blond woman is smiling at us, camera in hand. From her accent, I guess she's an American tourist or maybe an English teacher.

"Are you talking to me?" I ask in English. I give a look around to see if she could be looking at someone else.

"Oh, you _do_ speak English!" she gives a little laugh. "You look tired, kiddo. You want a seat?" she asks again.

My dad smiles at the foreign woman, and gives me a little push towards her. "Ah, a beautiful woman gives you chair!" His accent really does suck. Dad doesn't know that, though and grins at the lady.

She gets up, giving me room to sit down. I pull my cap down over my eyes so I can try to sleep.

"Hey, kid, say thank you," dad says, speaking in Japanese, now. "A beautiful woman gave you her seat and you don't even want to make small talk? Who woulda though my son was shy! Youth!" dad's sounds light and playful, but he looks tense.

"Where are you two going?" the woman is asking, smiling at my dad like she thinks he's cute.

I close my eyes; I don't want to listen to them talk about me- or watch my dad shamelessly flirt with a girl ten years younger than him. I'm tired enough to try and sleep. The noises of people talking blur together until I can't hear anything at all.

"Hey there, it's our stop, young man," dad is picking me up again, trying to get us out before the doors shut. There aren't many people getting off, and the doors are about to close. "Wait, wait, wait! Hold the door a minute, will ya? We need to get off here!" dad yells at no one in particular.

The the woman dad was talking watches, her hand twitching like she wants to help somehow. The look of pity on too face is like a bucket of cold water. Our eyes meet as we go out the door, and she looks away. What did dad tell her, anyway?

We step off the train and onto the platform. I expect dad to put me down here, and when he doesn't, I complain. But, he just keeps walking. It's not until we get to our exit that he puts me down. We walk through the gray halls until we get outside.

"The hospital isn't too far from here- but we've got to either call or taxi or catch a bus." Dad explains. "You wanna call a taxi?" But he doesn't wait for my reply. "We'd better catch a cab...I don't know exactly where the bus stop is." Dad says, and starts towards one of the taxis parked along the road.

The driver opens the door and trunk with a click of a button. He waits for us to toss our bags in the trunk before asking, "Where to?"

"Kokuritsugan Center," National Cancer Center, "would be good," my dad says, easing into back seat. He's got that serious look again, like he's thinking hard.

The ride to the center is another long and quiet one. The driver doesn't offer his name, or try to make small talk; he just drives. I watch the metropolis go by from my window until we finally get to the hospital.

Dad pays the taxi driver, and we step out.

"Do you have an appointment?" a woman behind the information desk smiles politely at my dad.

Dad stands there for a moment before speaking. "We were told you have a bed for my son," he begins, scratching his head. "but I don't know where it is."

"This must be your first time," the woman smiles apologetically. "He'll be in 12A, I'm sure. Take the elevator to the sixth floor." She points to a sign that reads 'elevator.' "There will be someone at the nurse's station to tell you which room he's in."

The hospital is brightly lit and much bigger than any other building I've been in. The high ceiling makes it seem more spacious than the clinic we visited this morning. The hall is lined with bright pink chairs and there are lots of windows.

We finally reach 12A, but I'm too exhausted to care. I feel like we ran around the whole building. I want to sit down, but there aren't any chairs over here. There are a couple of tables by a window a ways back, but I'm too tired to go for them.

Dad approaches the desk hesitantly. "We were told you have a bed for my son," he says again.

If this isn't the right place, I'm going to lie down right here. I'm not taking another step. I lean against the wall, slowly sliding down. I feel sick.

"Ryoma...what are you doing?" Dad looks concerned. I don't want to look at him. "Are you feeling okay?"

I shake my head, too tired to do anything more.

"Hello there!" a woman wearing a pink apron chirps. She's pushing an empty wheelchair, smiling brightly. "You must be our new arrival. Hop on up, this is your private chair."

"No way." I shake my head. "I'm not gonna sit in that thing!"

The woman laughs like I told a joke. "Don't be silly," she wrinkles her nose, "You don't want me to _carry_ you, now do you?" The woman is barely any taller than I am, but she lifts me like it's nothing.

"Lemme go," I yell, twisting around to try to get her to let me go. I know you're not supposed to yell in hospitals, but really. I've had enough of people trying to carry me everywhere. "There's nothing wrong with my feet, you know." I grumble.

My dad blinks at the woman, looking at a loss. He seems so out of place here.

"I'm Rina. I volunteer here between classes." She grins at me like we've known each other for years. "That's why I'm wearing this pink apron- you can tell any of the volunteers by it." She has a small, pointed face and small eyes that look like they're always smiling.

"So you're still in school, hm?" Dad grins back at her. "What are you studying?" He follows close behind us.

"I'm taking classes to be a nurse!" Rina exclaims. "I want to help kids like your son."

"Sorry, miss, but you're not going to get to help me." I tell her. "I'm only here for a test; I'm only going to be here for a little while."

"I hope so," Rina says quietly. "You're Echizen Ryoma, aren't you? They've put you in room 510. You don't have a roommate yet, but you never know." We stop in front of room 510. There's no name on the door.

"Look at this, you've got a big room!" Dad pushes the door open and goes in. "There's even a TV in here, and a window. Looks pretty nice, young man." He takes a seat in the chair by the bed, and reaches in his pocket.

Rina goes over to the window and opens the blinds. "It's too nice of a day to keep the sun out," she explains. She looks like she's imparting a secret. "I'm going to pick you up, now," and she does. "Whoo, you're going to make me get in shape!" she laughs eyes crinkling. Her small and narrow face makes her look like a fox.

I look around the room. It's really not that big with two cots and the TV. At least the walls aren't white- they're a pale shade of green. There's a tiny nightstand by each bed, and an IV pole. There's nothing else. What a boring room.

"You can hang up some posters, if you want to." Rina offers, following my gaze. "That'll cheer the place up."

I shake my head. "I don't need to cheer it up. I'm not staying here anyways." I sink into the pillows. They smell like laundry detergent, and faintly of disinfectant. I'm starting to get sleepy.

Rina steps out of the room, leaving me and my dad alone. Dad is crumpling some piece of paper, then tossing it from hand to hand, nervous. I close my eyes. I don't want him to be nervous about me. I want to go home.

A few minutes later, a nurse steps in. Like Rina, she's dressed in white, but has no apron. She wipes thin skin at my elbow, and ties an elastic cord just above the area. "This is going to hurt a little," she says quietly, her eyes on the task at hand rather than at my face. She prods my arm a few times, and I feel the veins move under her fingers. I look on as the nurse slips a needle into my arm, and then out again.

I flinch, and try to pull my arm away.

"Don't move, dear," she says quietly, but her grip is strong. She slides the needle in and out again, and does this once more before securing it with tape. The needle is attached to a thin, clear tube connected to a bag hanging on a rack. I wonder what that stuff is. It looks like water.

"Dr. Kobayashi will see you this evening," the nurse is brisk, distant. "I just started an IV. The doctor will explain all of the procedures to you when he sees you." The nurse seems so cool and distant. I guess working in a hospital full of dying people will make anybody cold. "After the tests, he'll probably order a transfusion."

I swallow around a lump in my throat. Transfusion? As in _blood_ transfusion? Yuck. I don't want anybody else's blood running through my veins.

My dad crushes the paper ball, then clears his throat. "Is this really necessary? Can't we get these tests done now? What exactly are you giving him, anyways?" Dad's words are rushed, going from one question to the next.

"These tests need to be scheduled in advance, Mr. Echizen. Your son will be put in as soon as there's a free spot," the nurse looks at my dad sternly. She turns back to me, saying, "The doctor will explain the procedures to you this evening." The nurse pats my pillow and looks at me. "I'll be coming in for a blood sample later. You rest until then."

My dad and I watch as the nurse closes the door behind her. The room seems so empty now that it's just the two of us. I want to get out of here as fast as possible.

"Can I go to sleep now?" I croak.

Dad looks uncomfortable, but he shrugs. "Sure." He tosses the crumpled paper again. "I'll do a little exploring...see if they have anything edible around here."

"Okay." I squirm around until I'm under the thin sheet. I'll only take a little nap...be awake in no time. I'll get up after a few more minutes...

My eyes are already closed, but I can hear the sound of my Dad getting out of his chair. I feel like I'm already dreaming. Maybe I am. I think my Dad's standing beside my bed, hovering. He smoothes my sheet, and takes off my hat, ruffling my hair as he does so.

I can't be sure, but I think he bends down, like he's going to give me a kiss on the forehead, but something stops him. He straightens my sheet again, and stands straight, ever vigilant.

When we dream, we're all alone. Everyone is.

Even me.

* * *

…tbc…

Thoughts?


	6. Part Six: Painful Tests

**Title:** Double Fault (a "Prince of Tennis" fanfic)  
**Warnings:** Mature themes.

**Author: **(: attackfish, LJ: bowlofkaki)

**Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis does not belong to me. I am not making any money off of this. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary: **Ryoma's stuck in the hospital. As he experiences the trials of chemotherapy, he must learn to live with his disease. How will he and his family-- and his friends on the tennis team-- cope? First person present, switching PoV.

* * *

(Echizen PoV)

I'm not aloud to sleep for long. I feel like I've only just closed my eyes when Rina shakes my shoulder. "Ryoma, the doctor is here," she whispers, still shaking my shoulder.

I rub my eyes. "I don't want to talk to anybody," I grumble, blinking in the light. I want to go back to sleep.

Whether or not I want to talk to him, Dr. Kobayashi is still standing in front of my bed. "Well, Ryoma, this is just a routine process. First, the nurse is going to take a little of your blood so we can study it very closely. And tomorrow, we've got you scheduled for a bone marrow aspiration." He smiles a little, but I'm not sure if it's to be friendly or reassuring.

"But the nurse said I just have a cold," I blurt out. I'm thinking of the time Oishi dragged me in to see the nurse. "So why do I have to be here?" I'm tired and really don't _want_ to be here.

"What?" Dr. Kobayashi looks puzzled.

"My school nurse," I explain. "She said I just need to rest and eat vegetables."

"Well, Ryoma, I'm afraid your school nurse was mistaken. It's true-- sometimes that's all children need—"

"That's all _I_ need." I stare up at the doctor intently. I don't need to be here at all.

"Unfortunately, that isn't the case with you." The doctor continues like I hadn't interrupted. "We're going to take some of your blood so we can look at it very closely, so that we know exactly what kind of sickness you have."

"But you already think you know what I have," I say slowly.

Dr. Kobayashi says nothing for a moment, and then looks me in the eye. "I think your doctor was right to send you here. We have some of the best nurses and doctors around-- and the most sophisticated equipment. We'll be able to help you take care of yourself."

I want to say more, but Dr. Kobayashi is quick to step into the hall. Doctors must be busy people. He doesn't come back in with the nurse.

I glare at the nurse; she already has everything ready. These stupid people; they think they know everything, and it irritates me. What if I just won't get my blood drawn? Maybe I'll just say 'no.'

"It's just like a little mosquito bite," the nurse says as she swabs my skin. "Just a little poke."

I'm tired of hospitals already.

Later, Rina stops in before she goes home. She's cheerful and smiling like before, but I'm in no mood to play along. She and dad say the usual polite things, and then dad does something I'm not expecting; he takes the conversation outside

"They let parents stay overnight nowadays, don't they? I heard—" he's saying as he pushes Rina out the door.

I wonder why he wants to talk out in the hall. Something tells me there's more to it than sleeping arrangements. I frown, annoyed; what's he talking about? There hasn't been much going on all day, so I figure it must be about me.

Resolved, I push the button to make my bed lay flat, and scoot to the end of the bed. I pull my IV stand along and carefully put my feet to the ground. I'm a little unsteady, but it feels good to be _doing_ something.

I pull the IV stand behind me, edging towards the door. I don't think the door will open quietly-- or even without them noticing-- so my best bet is to try and surprise them. Maybe then I'll hear whatever it is they're talking about. I give the door a quick shove.

I'm staring out in the hallway, face to face with Rina.

"That's what I said, they already _did_ the blood test, why—" my dad is saying, but Rina interrupts him.

"Ryoma," Rina's not smiling. "You shouldn't be out of bed. Let's get you back-- "

"What are you guys talking about? It's about me, isn't it?" I cross my arms. "I have a right to know," I say, glaring a challenge to the both of them.

"Oh, Ryoma, we're not talking about you--" Rina rushes to explain, but I won't let her finish.

"Yes you were." I stick my chin up, daring them to say otherwise. "Nobody else we know had a blood test; you were so talking about me."

Rina gives a little sigh, and a tiny smile. She shakes her head, saying, "Your dad was asking me about the tests you have to take, and also where he's going to sleep." Her eyes look sad, but her mouth is kind.

"They _will_ let me stay, young man," my dad offers a lopsided smile, and reaches out to ruffle my hair. "I'll be here all night."

"Why?" I frown. Why does he _want_ to be here all night?

My dad scratches his back, looking preoccupied. "It's too much of a hassle to leave and then just come right back again." He closes his eyes. "Besides, your mother will probably want to know, too. As soon as we get a hold of her, I'm sure she'll start nagging me about staying up here with you."

"Whatever," I mumble, and half turn to go back in. "But if you have any "questions" about what's happening to _me_, ask them where I can hear them." My words are a challenge and a rebuke. They have no right to stand around what most affects _me._

* * *

(Echizen PoV)

"Good morning, Ryoma!" A nurse's aid wakes me up in the morning with the breakfast tray. She sets the tray on my lap. "I know you aren't feeling well, but not eating won't help anything. Try and eat." She urges, setting the tray on my lap.

I rub at my eyes groggily. Why do these people get up so _early_? I blink after the nurse's aid, but she's already started for the door to do some other task. The tray sits there on my lap. I give it a quizzical look, eying the bowl of miso, rice with a pickle, a few slices apple, and two glasses-- one is apple juice and the other is milk. I make a face; the miso looks like water.

I look around, but my dad's not in my room. He stayed with me all night, sleeping in a little fold-out cot. He must have gone to find something to eat. I'm glad to finally have room to breathe.

I break apart the wooden pair of chopsticks, thinking I'll eat the sour pickle. Just then, my dad comes back in. So much for a little time alone.

"Hey, sport" dad says, and moves over to the window. He looks restless from a day of being cooped up, but I don't blame him. I don't want to be here, either. "Your mother is going to come in a little later, after all. She couldn't get back sooner, so she'll be here sometime tomorrow morning." He looks to the tray in my lap. "You better try and get something down; they told me they're almost ready for the test." He looks out the window so I can't make out his expression.

"That bone thing?" I ask, trying to remember exactly what test Dr. Kobayashi said I was going to have. "What exactly are they going to _do?_" I can't remember anything about it. Why do they want to look at my bones, anyways?

"They told me a little about it...they give you something so you can't feel it..." My dad closes his eyes, and roles his shoulders back and forth.

"Feel _what?_" I prod. This doesn't sound good. "Is it like an x-ray?"

Dad groans a little, and fidgets. "Why don't you ask the doctor," dad suggests, a little of his usual attitude returning.

I'm going to ask him more questions, but a knock at the door stops me. "Excuse me," another nurse says, saying the words like a little song.

I guess I don't have time to eat after all.

"Here we go, treatment room express, now boarding." The nurse says this like a little joke, a big smile on her face.

"No way," I shake my head. "I'm _not_ riding in that-- why does everyone keep picking me up?" I'm exasperated. These nurses really don't listen.

"I've got to push you down the hall, okay?" the nurse gives me a frown and a shake of her short-cropped hair. "You don't want me to get in trouble, do you?"

I sigh, and give her a good look. We go past a little boy and a girl playing in the hallway. I stare at the two of them-- the little boy can't be more than five, but he has no hair.

"Rina told me about you." The nurse smiles, like she's about to tell a joke. "She said you're cute, but _I_ think you're a bit hard-headed."

My dad snickers at this, following close behind. I'd glare at him, but I can't really see him.

"Rina?" I think for a second, trying to place a face to the name. It seems familiar, but I can't think of it.

"A volunteer here? She has very long hair pulled back, and she's short. She's also very friendly." The nurse offers. "She's my little sister! I'm Saori." She smiles down at me, like it should have been obvious.

"You're sisters?" I ask, incredulous. "So why do you both work at the same place?"

We go past the nurses' station and out the double doors marked 12A "Pediatric Oncology." Saori glances up at the ceiling why she thinks of an answer.

"Hm, well, maybe we both work here because our younger sister came here a long time ago." Saori finally answers.

"Why was she here?" I ask, but I'm looking down the long hall.

"She was very sick as a baby." Saori says, matter-of-fact. "Our family moved to Tokyo to take her here to be treated for leukemia. But she's all better, now, and going to high school. Her name is Hitomi."

"Does she want to work here, too?"

Saori laughs. "I don't think so...she told me once she wants to be a voice actor." Saori chuckles at the thought. She doesn't say anything more, except to greet other nurses and a few of the patients in the hall.

Finally, we go into a room. Cabinets line the walls, and there's a single padded table in the center. It smells like disinfectant, and some other sterilizer. My dad moves to the back of the room, giving the bed a wide berth. There's the nurse from yesterday, and a doctor I don't know waiting for us. I swallow.

"Hello, Ryoma," the nurse greats me. "I'm going to tell you about this morning's procedure," she begins. "Bone marrow is the soft, inner-most part of the bone. It's like your body's own little factory for making new blood cells."

I stare at her. She definitely doesn't beat around the bush; she went straight to the point. "We're going to take a look at some of that bone marrow this morning. First we'll give you a local anesthetic-- "

"A what?" I interrupt. "What are you giving me?"

Saori leans over my shoulder to tell me, "It's a shot to make sure you don't feel anything." I nod, and Saori leans away.

"That way all you'll feel is a bit of pressure when we put the needle in." The nurse finishes.

I feel a cold shiver come over me; they're talking about putting a needle in my bones. This is very unreal.

"Put him on the bed," the doctor says, putting on a pair of sterile gloves.

Saori and the other nurse lift me up, and put me on the bed. Saori puts a pillow under my hip as the other nurse pulls on my arm, gesturing for me to lie down. The table is rising, putting me at about shoulder level for the doctor. A cold wave goes over me, looking at the doctor.

"It's best if you don't move," the doctor tells me, and motions for the nurse to hold my legs.

My heart is racing; this isn't anything like getting blood drawn. Nobody has to hold you down to get your blood drawn.

The doctor tugs my pajama pants a little, exposing the skin at the crest of my hips. He puts a piece of paper around the area, and begins to swab the bare skin.

"Ryoma, don't look," Saori urges, taking a hold of my hand. "You can squeeze my hand, if you need to."

Somehow, her telling me that makes me feel worse. Don't look? It's just another needle isn't it? My heart is beating in my ears, wild and erratic. I can't help but look back to watch the doctor give me the first shot.

I give a surprised yelp when I feel it-- it feels like my skin is burning. The feeling passes in an instant, though, and I can't feel the doctor's hands. He rubs the spot some more, as if he's trying to make sure I really can't feel anything.

"Ryoma," Saori says, tugging at my hand. "Listen to me, okay?" she looks earnest. "Watch my face."

But I'm not looking at her; I can't look away from the doctor. He pulls out the biggest needle I've ever seen-- it looks as long as my arm, and thicker than my wrist. I look away then, eyes wide. They're going to put _that_ in me? I picture it drilling through my skin, and all the way through my bones. There's only an intense feeling of pressure, a sense of something bearing down on my hip.

In the next instant, there's a searing pain sweeping across my body. The pain lasts only for a moment, but it's more intense than anything I've ever felt before, searing through my arms and legs, up and down my spine. I flinch, instinctively trying to move away from the needle. But the nurses have me pinned down, and the weight of that needle has me immobile.

I'm breathing hard, but the pain is gone; I don't feel anything more than that pressure.

"We're almost done," the doctor says his voice devoid of any emotion. In another few moments the pressure is gone, and the nurse holding my feet is putting a bandage on the spot.

I try to sit up a little, but a surge of pain keeps me down. I groan, and close my eyes. My head hurts... "You said it wouldn't hurt," I croak. "That really hurt," I mumble.

"Lie still for a little while. You'll feel better in an hour or so," the other nurse tells me.

"It's true, sometimes there's a nasty moment or so when the marrow's actually being sucked out," Saori admits, "but it has to be done." She moves the pillow to my head. "Just lie still; this will pass."

"You did good there, kid." Dad's voice is really quiet. He moves his hand over my face, but pulls it back. "You do what the nurse tells you." His face is blank. "I'm going to call your mother. I'll be back by the time you're back in your room."

My head hurts too much to do anything more than watch him leave.

"You're over reacting, Nanjiro." My mind is fuzzy from sleep, but those words penetrate, somehow. What time is it? I think I must be dreaming; I don't _feel_ awake. What time is it?

"-- Ryoma-- "

...my name? I'm only catching bits and pieces of whatever's being said...it sounds like somebody's arguing.

I blink a little, trying to make sense of the ceiling. It's not _my_ ceiling. I'm trying to figure out why anybody said my name.

"-- I don't know about Japan-- "

_What?_ I'm awake _now_. Japan? Everything comes back to me as I sit up and see the hospital walls. "What?" I voice my question, rubbing my eyes.

Mom and dad jerk a little at the sound of my voice. They're standing over by the window. "Oh, you're awake!" Mom says, looking me in the eye.

"You guys woke me up," I grumble, tone flat. "What about Japan? What are you guys arguing about?"

"Oh, it's nothing. Your father was just getting ahead of himself." She smoothes her business suit, and moves to sit in the pink chair. "Tell me about what you've been doing all day." She settles into the chair, expecting me to lead the conversation.

"I slept some," my dad catches my eye, and gestures to the TV set. "And I watched a bunch of videos dad brought-- lots of tennis matches from early last year."

"Oh, well that sounds great!" she offers a smile. "Sounds like you two are having a regular party."

I shrug. "When did you get here, anyways? Why didn't you wake me up?"

"Oh, I just got here." She waves a hand apologetically. "Besides, don't you need to rest? Settle down now and go back to sleep."

"Not until I know what you guys are arguing about." I fold my arms. "What about Japan? We're not moving again, are we?"

My dad gives a startled laugh. "Don't even suggest it!" he gives me a lopsided grin. "We're staying here for a while yet, kid."

But my mom doesn't look so happy about that-- in fact, she's giving my dad a look that says she thinks otherwise. Hmm. Why would they be talking about moving? Didn't we just get here? My head's spinning with all these questions.

"Saa, let's watch another video," dad picks up one of the many tapes. "Ooh, this one looks good! How about it, young man?"

I shrug, "It doesn't really matter. Any of them are good." I mutter, closing my eyes. Hospital life really sucks.

* * *

…tbc…

Thoughts?


	7. Part Seven: Results

**Title:** Double Fault (a "Prince of Tennis" fanfic)  
**Warnings:** Mature themes.

**Author: **(: attackfish, LJ: bowlofkaki)

**Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis does not belong to me. I am not making any money off of this. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary: **Ryoma's stuck in the hospital. As he experiences the trials of chemotherapy, he must learn to live with his disease. How will he and his family-- and his friends on the tennis team-- cope? First person present, switching PoV.

* * *

(Echizen PoV)

The next morning, I wake up on my own, stomach growling. I feel a lot better than I did yesterday, that's for sure! I make my bed rise so I can see the clock; it's 10:00.

"You look like you're feeling better," mom says with an approving smile. She looks as pleased, as if it were her doing.

"They started a transfusion before you woke up," dad chips in between bites. He's working on a piece of dried squid, tearing off a bit of a tentacle to chew. "You look _much_ healthier!" He crows.

"Maybe I'm just getting better on my own," I suggest. "I feel great-- like I could play a couple of games right now."

A piece of the squid is hanging out of dad's mouth. "Mah, just eat your breakfast, kid." He gestures to a tray by my bed.

I grab at the tray and eye its contents eagerly-- I feel like I haven't eaten in a week. I make quick work of breakfast, which my parents look happy about. Before they can say anything, I'm shoving my feet off the bed, heading for the door with my IV stand behind me.

"I'll be back in a little while," I say behind my shoulder. "I want to look around." And I go down the hall, away from my mother's disapproving look.

12A isn't really very busy-- at least not like it is for all the waiting rooms I've seen. There's a nurse going in a room here or there, or a kid walking (or riding) down the hall. I pull my IV stand behind me, wandering down a few of the halls. A handful of conversations spill out into the open:

"-- yeah, that's great! Okay, just one more bite, sweetie--"

"-- I don't wanna! No—"

"-- your counts are up, so I don't see any reason—"

"Tennis, huh?"

I start at the mention of my sport. I spin around trying to figure out in which room the woman speaks. But she's not in a room-- she's further down the hall at the nurse's station. It's a nurse who's speaking to someone. I walk a few more steps so I can see the boy she's talking to.

The boy is taller than I am...he's pale, with blue hair, of all colors, and a face like a doll's. He looks about the age of my upperclassmen, probably a third year junior high student. He's not in a wheelchair and he doesn't have an IV; he's standing on his own feet in some school uniform. What's he doing here?

"Yes, I'm captain of my school's tennis club." He has a soft voice that reminds me of Fuji, but without the teasing quality. "They do pretty good, even without me! You ought to come see a match sometime."

"Yes, yes," the nurse laughs, brushing him off. "You're in a little early, so why don't you take a seat."

"All right," the boy says, and turns to the row of chairs. His eyes stray from the chairs to where I'm standing, further down the hall, straight at me. Our eyes meet. The boy frowns as he looks at me, and looks like he's going to say something.

Uh oh. I'm quick to turn around, and make a hasty retreat down the hallways to my room. The boy doesn't call after me, or worse, follow me. I breathe a sigh of relief, and slow down when I get to my hall.

"Ah, just the person I wanted to see," Dr. Kobayashi startles me. I didn't see him sneak up behind me. "Are your parents in there?" He gestures to my room, still a little ways back.

I nod.

"That's good. I might as well talk to all of you at once," Dr. Kobayashi says thoughtfully.

We close the distance in silence. I stare at the door, reluctant to go back in. But the doctor gives me a little push, so we go in. My stomach hurts.

"Why don't we make ourselves comfortable," the doctor's saying, but I feel like he's speaking from miles away.

The doctor smiles at my parents, but they're not smiling. My mom is still sitting in the chair, the doctor and dad stand across from each other.

"I've received the results of yesterday's bone marrow aspiration. I'm afraid it confirmed your pediatrician's suspicion; the test came out positive. Your son has leukemia."

My mother makes a little sound in the back of her throat, the sound that animals make when they're scared. My dad just looks at the doctor blankly, not even blinking. I feel numb. It doesn't feel real...I can't have _that_--

"Let me tell you exactly what leukemia is." The doctor sounds like he's giving a lecture, like he's explaining something out of a textbook. Not like he's telling us what's happening to me. "Leukemia is a disease of the blood, a kind of cancer. Your son has acute lymphatic leukemia, what we call ALL."

I pull my knees up to my chest, suddenly cold. I want to tell him not to talk about me like I'm not there, to tell him I can hear him, but my mouth won't move.

"This type of leukemia happens rather suddenly, without any apparent cause. The white blood cells start to multiply out of control-- think of them as the bad guys. These white blood cells don't do what they're supposed to do. Instead, they crowd the healthy cells-- the good guys-- and keep you from feeling well."

"But I feel fine!" I want him to tell me he's wrong. To tell me that I don't really have some terrible disease. "I thought I was getting better."

"That's the transfusion doing it's work. You're very sick, Ryoma."

"What's going to happen?" My mother's voice is trembling. "Is he-- " she stops herself, looking pale.

"The prognosis for leukemia is quite good these days. There are children who make it into complete remission, Mrs. Echizen. But we do need to talk about your son's treatment options. It's very important that we get started right away," the doctor keeps talking, despite the fact that no one really looks like they're listening.

"What are our options?" My dad's voice sounds hallow, slow.

"We'll begin a course of chemotherapy tomorrow. That means we'll start giving Ryoma some very powerful drugs to kill the leukemia cells. It could be a few weeks before he's ready to go home."

"A few _weeks?_ But I have tennis matches! And what about school?"

"It will be a few weeks before you achieve remission-- when there are no longer any signs of the disease. But you _will_ be taking medication for the next few years, along with regular visits for bone marrows and additional medication."

Dr. Kobayashi says it so casually, like it's nothing. More bone marrows? I haven't forgotten how painful the _first_ one was.

"Years?" my mother sounds so shocked. She's looking at the doctor with wide eyes. "But then he'll be okay?"

"He won't have any restrictions for school or activities, once it's all over, no." The doctor pushes back to the earlier branch of his speech. "You should know that these are very powerful drugs. We don't have any drugs that only attack the cancer cells; our drugs will attack the healthy cells, too."

I stare at the doctor, and then my parents. "You mean side effects? There'll be side effects 'cause the medicine attacks my healthy cells?" I look the doctor straight in the eye.

"Side effects can be tough, it's true." The doctor is reluctant to broach the subject. "We'll deal with side effects as they happen. They vary from person to person; you may be one of the lucky ones who aren't bothered at all."

The doctor is talking to my parents about the medicines they're going to give me, but I'm not listening anymore. The room feels like it's as big as a building, with all of us standing on opposite ends. My mother is standing on one end staring at the doctor with rapt attention, my father leagues away watching in stony silence. I'm all alone on my bed. They're all talking about what's wrong with me, but nobody's looking my way.

It'll be _years_ before this is all over. I don't know what to think, what to do.

What's happening to me?

* * *

(Momoshiro PoV)

I'm looking at the first years in the yard, watching them drill endlessly. There's a little time between warm-up drills and practice games, but instead of watching my opponent, I'm looking around the court. Nothing around here feels the same with our rookie player missing.

All week it's been the same; everybody looks to me to see if Echizen's back at school in the mornings. I feel like I'm letting everybody down by coming in without him. I haven't even spoken to him since the game on Sunday.

They act like they expect Echizen to come and say something like "I over slept," and have everything be like it was. When they see he's not with me, everybody gets real quiet. These past few morning practices have been real lame. Nobody's putting anything into their game.

In afternoon practices, everybody's looking at the other first years to see if the rookie's come in during class. Like that kid would skip tennis practice and just go to history or something. I don't expect Echizen to be back, but I'm looking for him too.

I keep going to his house, expecting to take him to school, but even after three days (four mornings!) he's still not back. His cousin's told me he's sick, and that he's not coming to school.

He's out of school all the sudden, and nobody knows a thing.

"Momoshiro," Inui's voice pulls me back. The upperclassman is holding a ball, ready to serve, but I'm not even looking his way. Inui gives a gesture, indicating that he's going to give me a few practice shots to warm up. He smiles when I say 'sorry, Inui.'

I grin, trying to ease my thoughts back in line. "I'm ready, I'm ready," I call out, easing into a crouch.

Inui hits the ball my way, hitting a lob across the court. Since this is just another warm up, neither of us are trying to win a point. We're just hitting the ball back and forth; it's a 'get into the game' sort of thing.

"Pallor," Inui says, surprising me with this sudden outburst. "Fatigue, fever, anemia," he continues, surprising me into over-hitting an easy ball. The ball hits the fence, and drops to the ground.

"Huh?" I stare, wide-eyed. "Um, what are you--"

"Weight-loss, irritability, headaches. Echizen's symptoms as I've observed-- also reported by Kawamura." Inui looks over at me from his side of the net. "He had been off his game for a while, not just recently. And now he's missed school."

We stare at each other over the net, thinking about Seigaku's rookie player. "What are you getting at, senior?" This voice doesn't sound like mine-- it's serious, worried. It sounds like a stranger's.

"Whatever Echizen has," Inui says slowly, "it could be any number of illnesses, but..." he trails off.

"But?" I prompt. I don't care if it's rude to push my senior. Inui's thinking about something, and in my experience Inui's thoughts are usually about on target.

"He's missed four days of school, but hasn't called coach Ryuzaki. He also passed out during the Rokkaku match."

My mouth is bitter. I swallow, staring the upperclassman in the eyes. "What do you think?"

"What do you think, Momoshiro? You've been to his house every morning. Did anyone say anything?" It's not Inui who's asking, but Fuji. Geeze, this guy is quiet. I didn't notice him come over.

I can feel Fuji staring at me, but his eyes aren't open. "I, uh, I really don't know, Fuji," I put a hand behind my neck, embarrassed. "His cousin just said he's not coming to school today...'cause he's sick."

Fuji frowns and Inui looks skeptical. Fuji gives me a long look, like he's trying to find something. The courts seem a lot more grim these days.

Echizen's absence isn't going unnoticed. Katsuo and Kachiro are grim, worried. Horio can't stop running his mouth, talking about all the things that could have gone wrong. The girls continue showing up to watch practice but leave after seeing that Echizen's not here.

The courts seem a lot more quiet around here. Not that the kid ever made too much noise-- it's everybody else who've gotten quiet.

"Ah," Fuji says, pointing over my shoulder. "Looks like co-captain Oishi wants to talk to you, Momo." the third year pushes my shoulder, gibing me a little shove towards our substitute captain. I look over my shoulder, back at Fuji's impish face and Inui's serious one.

"Momo, there's something I need to ask you." Oishi gives me a serious look.

Oishi's intense concentration makes me stand up straighter. A part of me is thinking 'Oishi has turned out to be a good captain.'

"Horio and the others told me Echizen still hasn't contacted any of the teachers, Coach Ryuzaki and I thought we ought to try and get a hold of him, but," here Oishi bites his lip, "I thought I could ask you to try." He looks around the tennis courts and at all the people practicing. "After all, you and he are friends."

"Yes, co-captain," I say.

"Please say this: 'Coach Ryuzaki and the tennis team are asking after Echizen. The school also is concerned about his extended absence, so please send some word of his situation to his homeroom teacher.'" Oishi says it very seriously, using polite and formal language.

"Everyone is distracted by his absence," Oishi adds, like he's trying to explain his worried expression. "We've got an important game coming up, after all."

"Yes, co-captain. I'll do my best!" I say, and straighten my shoulders. "I will tell his cousin after practice." I hesitate for a second, and add, "But I don't think he's in his house. His light's never on, and nobody opened the window when I--" I stop myself. I feel my face screw up as I find myself wonders what Oishi would say about me throwing pebbles at my friend's window. "er-- nobody opened the window," I finish lamely.

Oishi gives me a serious look, and nods. "We're counting on you, Momoshiro." With that, he jogs back to practice with Kikumaru.

I turn around slowly, looking to Inui standing in our court. I slowly make my way back to the court, head full of things to do after practice.

I can feel eyes on me all the way back to my position. Everyone's noticed Echizen's absence, right? Yeah, everyone's noticed. It's like he's become one of the two pillars that support us.

* * *

…tbc…

Thoughts?


	8. Part Eight: Chemotherapy, Round One

**Title:** Double Fault (a "Prince of Tennis" fanfic)  
**Warnings:** Mature themes.

**Author: **(: attackfish, LJ: bowlofkaki)

**Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis does not belong to me. I am not making any money off of this. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary: **Ryoma's stuck in the hospital. As he experiences the trials of chemotherapy, he must learn to live with his disease. How will he and his family-- and his friends on the tennis team-- cope? First person present, switching PoV.

* * *

(Echizen PoV)

"If you'd just let me go _home_ I'd feel better!" I growl. "It's this _medicine_ that's making me sick--" Every move I make brings more nausea. I never knew anybody could feel this terrible.

"Ryoma, the medicine is going to make you well--" dad interrupts, forcing his words on me. _He_ doesn't know what this stuff does to you. He's not the one with an IV stuck in his arm.

Nurse Saori told me to 'lie still and it will pass,' but they gave me that medicine early _morning_. It's afternoon now and I'm still feeling sick. It's all because they started chemotherapy this morning. All I know is it makes me sick to my stomach-- I can't keep anything down.

All day nurses have been coming in and out, bringing food, or sometimes just checking on me. It's never quiet in the hospital-- there's a constant hum of machinery, and the sounds of people passing through the hall. I don't like the food, the noise or _anything_ about this place.

I close my eyes and try to picture myself somewhere else. Anywhere else.

But I give up on that pretty quickly. I just feel so sick; all I can do is sit and think about how bad I feel.

"How about a cold glass of water?" my dad asks. Nurse Saori also told me if I 'drink lots' the feeling will pass. Dad's been trying to distract me—not to mention trying to get me to eat something all day. I guess it's a relief for him to ask me to drink this time around.

Dad looks at me expectantly.

I give him a look.

"Come on, boy," he is tone is light, playful, but his expression is serious. "You have to eat something." So much for him giving up on food.

Apparently tired of waiting for an answer, Dad moves away from his spot by the window and heads for the door. "I'll be right back," he grumbles, hunching his shoulders. "They've got a water fountain down the hall somewhere. I'll be back." Dad's careful not to turn around. He goes out the door without a backwards glance.

My room seems a lot emptier with just me in here. Dad's barely left my room since yesterday, but Mom, on the other hand, is running all over the hospital. First, it was to "get a feel for the hospital," then it was to get coffee, and now she's trying to track someone down to berate. The hospital's a pretty dull place.

I wish I had that drink to calm my stomach down. I try and will myself to feel okay, but it just doesn't work; I feel like I'm going to throw up again. Where's the bucket? Why does this have to happen now?

"Dad," I croak, "Dad," my voice is hoarse, raw. There's no way I'm gonna puke all over myself.

"Yeah, yeah?" my dad burst in, clutching a half-crushed paper cup. "You okay, kid?" he rushes to the bed.

"The bucket--" I moan.

Dad gives me the bucket, and sets a cold washcloth on my neck. I can feel the cold water dripping down my neck, pleasant and uncomfortably chilling at the same time. The heat of my neck warms the cloth up quickly, though, and I feel hot all over again. I want to lie down and let the dizziness pass over me, but I'm too nauseous. So I sit there shaking for a few minutes, and the feeling eventually passes. I sigh and lean back against my pillows. I must be really out of it, because I don't notice my mother at the door until she speaks.

"Oh, honey, you look exhausted." I look up to see my mother hovering at the door. "The doctor said a nurse would be by with some anti-nausea medicine later," she says, coming a little closer.

"Rinko, just sit down a while." My dad says, sounding tired. "Nanako will be here soon. Just stay put."

"I wasn't _going_ anywhere. I know perfectly well what time it is," she scolds. She doesn't sit down-- instead, she stands on the other side of my bed. "I found your doctor, Ryoma. He told me about the medicine they're giving you-- it turns out that they make most people feel sick. I told him about how terrible you look and he gave me this to calm your stomach down." My mother says in a rush. She hands me a paper cup with a pill in it.

I take the pill from her hand and the water from my dad's. I plop the pill in my mouth and grimace at the bitter taste. I'm quick to drain the cup.

Neither my mom or dad has anything to say. Mom pats my hair away from my face, and dad paces to the other side of the room. Back and forth, like a caged lion.

The silence stretches on for minutes on end. I just want to go back to sleep. Mom and dad are waiting for it to be four o'clock-- when Nanako said she'd get here. They don't talk for the next ten more minutes until Nanako finally arrives.

"Hello, Ryoma!" Nanako smiles at me. "Hello uncle, hello aunt. How are you feeling today?"

"Oh, just a little bit frazzled is all, dear," Mom says with a sigh. "But we're holding up." I'm not sure if her smile is meant to be polite, or if it's meant to tell how tired she is.

My dad makes a little _chh_ noise, and settles into himself with a frown. "The nurses have started avoiding me. It's boring."

Nanako looks like she's going to laugh, but she only smiles instead. "You shouldn't tease them so much, uncle," she chides lightly. "I brought you some rice, Ryoma. You look so pale! You really ought to try and eat it."

I scowl at my cousin. "I'm not hungry." Even the thought of food is enough to make my stomach turn. "Give it to him," I say, pointing to my dad.

"Oh." Nanako says, looking stricken. But she's quick to smile again. "I'll just leave it here so you can eat it later."

Nanako is an expert middleman. She leads my parents through the usual polite babble without letting their remarks bother her. My mother and she are like two old friends getting together for a gossip session while my dad and I yawn. Nanako tries to include us, but I'm not willing to talk to her after she tells me I look like the living dead. My dad either ignores the questions or gives vague answers.

"How about we, er, go get some drinks, Rinko?" Dad says suddenly. "And go get the kids something to munch on." He gets up with a flourish, and pushes my mother out the door.

Nanako and I stare at each other in silence. I still don't have anything to say to her, but she looks like she wants to start a conversation. Sure enough, after a few silent moments, she does.

"How do you feel, Ryoma? You look worse than yesterday."

I give her a _look,_ but don't say anything.

"Your friends stopped by yesterday," Nanako wrings her hands together, "he's been coming by every day this week." Nanako bites her lip, and gives a little sigh. "Ryoma, I told him you were in the hospital."

"You did _what?"_ I'm quick to sit up, but then I have to lay back down. My head is spinning, my stomach rebelling. "Why'd you _tell_ him?" I groan.

Nanako looks fretful. "He was really worried, Ryoma. He said your coach-- and your teachers, too-- were asking after you! And he _has_ been coming all week." She looks a little defiant. "You should tell them, Ryoma. Wouldn't it be nice to have your team come and visit you?"

I groan. _Why_ did she tell them? This is just _great._

"Cheer up, Ryoma," Nanako urges. "Won't it be nice to have them come and visit you?" she asks again.

"Did you tell them _where?"_ I want to know.

"Oh, no, I didn't. I just told them, 'Ryoma's in the hospital. I don't think he'll be back for another few days.'" She smiles like she'd done me a favor. "Besides, I really think you ought to tell them yourself. It's not nice to leave them in the dark like this!"

The door swings open, clanking against the doorstop against the wall. My mom and dad come back in, arms laden with cold drinks. They seem to sense the argument they walked in on, faces stern.

"Not very nice?" I scoff, and close my eyes. It's not very _nice_ for me to be stuck in here. _They're_ not the ones being made to take poison.

"Oh, Ryoma," my mother reaches for my hand, but I snatch it away. She looks at me helplessly. "This isn't going to be for very long, and we're only trying to help you!"

"It is _so_ for a long time; the doctors said I'll be here for _years,_ mom, not a few days." I give her a glare. Why does everyone try to lie to me? I know what's going on; it's just stupid to try and lie to me.

I don't know where all these words are coming from, or why I'm saying them. I feel awful. It doesn't do anybody any good to be arguing. I know that, but it doesn't stop me from saying these things. I can't back down now.

"Hold on a minute, brat," my dad says, he sounds like he's about ready to put me back in my place.

But I don't wanna hear it. I pull the sheet up over my head, and turn away from them. I don't care about what they have to say.

Around me, my parents and cousin talk in low murmurs. But they could be fish in the sea, for all I care. It's like I'm in another world...separate from everyone else. Separate from all the healthy people. I close my eyes and will myself to fall asleep.

To forget my body, and all the aches and pains.

* * *

_(Momoshiro PoV)_

I ride as fast as I can manage. My mind is exploding with the news; Echizen is in the hospital. I leap off my bike as soon as I reach school grounds, and dash past the other students. My bike is locked as soon as I can manage, and I'm flying down the path.

When I get to the court, though, my mind draws a blank.

I. don't. know. what. to. say.

Should I just bellow it out, right there? Quietly approach co-captain Oishi, or Coach Ryuzaki? Man, maybe I should have gone to tell his homeroom teacher first...

But Oishi doesn't let me think it out. He's already approaching me. "Momo," he calls, and jogs to meet me. "Anything?" I'm sure he can tell by the look on my face that I have news.

I swallow, and stare the co-captain in the face. "Echizen is in the hospital." I exhale.

With those few words, everyone standing around me stops. No one moves, and no one makes a sound. It's like we're in a movie or something-- everyone's that still.

"What? Echizen is in the _hospital?_" Horio bellows.

If anybody hadn't heard _me_ say it, they certainly heard him. The silence erupts into a thousand conversations. I can't make anything in specific out, just a lot of people asking me again and again for more details. Seigaku students always have had a thing for gossip.

"Everyone!" Oishi calls out. His voice is loud and stern. "Twenty laps!" As imposing as Oishi sounds, nobody obeys. Conversations just start up again.

"All right, all right!" Coach Ryuzaki claps her hands together very loud. "I won't have any gossiping on these courts. You heard your co-captain! Run twenty laps!"

Strangely enough, it's Fuji and Eiji who start running, while everyone else looks on. The other regulars follow shortly afterwards, and the remaining students obediently follow suit. I'm going to run, too, but Coach stops me.

"Momoshiro, come with me." She says, and turns to lead me inside. When we reach the teachers' room, she turns to face me. "Do you have a message for his homeroom teacher?"

The teacher's room is crowded as always. The teachers each have their own cubical; there's barely enough room for the desk and chair there. Because class hasn't officially started yet, many of the teachers are here, shuffling lesson plans and the like.

"Umm...all his cousin said was that he was in the hospital, and that he wouldn't be in school for a few days. That's all." I feel awkward talking here. Why did Coach Ryuzaki take me with her? Could she tell Echizen's homeroom teacher it herself? I don't understand why I need to be here at all.

"She didn't say to send his homework, or to give his homeroom teacher a message?" Coach has her arms crossed.

"No," I bow, and add, "sorry for not asking!" I can't believe I didn't think about his lessons! Man, what a terrible messenger I make!

"He won't be back for a while, hmm?" Ryuzaki seems thoughtful. "Looks like we may need to get some supplies." I follow her eyes to a stack of papers on her desk. What's she talking about?

I blink. "Supplies, ma'am?"

Coach Ryuzaki chuckles at my question. "You all are making Echizen a 'get-well card.'"

I blink, open mouthed. "Oh."

* * *

_(Fuji PoV)_

"Chaan!" Eiji sings out, waving his arms as if he was signaling a plane down. "My card is complete!" he gives a Cheshire grin, teeth from ear to ear.

I lean in to look at his card. "Hmm, it looks like a bear spitting out a green pea." I say. Eiji's card is a simple, hand drawn thing-- colorful and messy. The green ball is a swirl of yellow and green, a tight spun spiral from the center, gradually becoming more loose and erratic as it winds outwards.

"Hey," Eiji exclaims, deflating like an over-used toy, "that's not very nice, Fuji!" Eiji doesn't notice my smile; he's too busy clutching his card and waiving a finger in my face. "Besides, it does _not_ look like a bear-spitting-out-a-pea!" Eiji strings the words together quickly, as if he doesn't want to keep them in his mouth.

I smile at Eiji's antics. "Oh, really? I thought for sure it must be."

"Fuu, you're mean, Fuji." Eiji says. "_Any_body can tell my card has a flying tennis ball and a fluffy cat-- not a, a, whatever you said."

"Well, it certainly is fluffy," I say, chuckling. I look around and see that everyone around me is still making cards.

It's interesting having all the team starters sitting outside the courts while everyone else makes use of the school's facilities. We're sprawled over the side-lines, glue, markers and heaps of paper littering the sidewalk like dead fish after the tide's gone out.

To my left, I can see Taka and Oishi writing diligently on their cards. A glance tells me Oishi's card is longwinded, rambling down the back of the paper. Taka's, on the other hand, is neat and simple-- a simple phrase wishing for Echizen's good health. It reads, 'Take care of yourself. We'll wait for your return!' The card is kindhearted and straightforward, rather like Taka himself.

"Such neat handwriting," I say, only to let him know I'm standing here. "What will you put on the back?"

"Ah, Fuji," Taka says, looking apologetic, although he's done nothing wrong. "I didn't see you."

"Hard at work, eh?" I can't keep my amusement from coloring my words. People are so interesting when they think no one's looking.

"Really, there isn't anything on the back." Taka grins. His card is actually a postcard with a fuzzy picture of a boat on a clear lake. Taka's handwriting is just bellow the boat, written where ripples might have been, had the waters not been so still.

I give the card a long look, considering. "Well, I suppose you could sign the back…" I look at the blank back of the card. It does seem a bit bare…

"All right, everyone, let's see the card." Ryuzaki barks, appearing in front of us, hands on her hips. Not for the first time, I find myself thinking she's rather similar to a general, rather than a coach. We line up, straight in a row.

"Cards," Oishi orders, and he collects each of them for Coach to look at. Oishi bows a little before handing the stack to Coach Ryuzaki. I find the whole thing amusing.

"Hm? What's this, so many?" Ryuzaki leafs through the cards, looking at our various styles. "What's _with_ you guys?" she shakes the cards at us. "We're a team-- we want _one_ card from all of you. Just one. Back to work!" Ryuzaki puts the stack of cards in Oishi's hands and turns to the players on the courts. I wonder at the satisfied look in her eyes. Perhaps she means this to be an exercise in team work.

Behind her, we all look at each other, until Oishi speaks. "You heard her, just _one_ card," Oishi says, serious. He means to get the job done right now. "Now, let's be fair," he begins, but is interrupted.

"Oishi, I don't want to sign _your_ card!" Eiji says, and flings his hands behind his head, an 'I-know-what-you're-trying' expression on his face. Eiji would be the perfect picture of a sullen child if he didn't look so sly. He means to push Oishi into doing something.

"N-no, that's not what I meant," Oishi protests, falling right into Eiji's little game. "We'll all decide on which card to use." Oishi looks flabbergasted. He passes the cards back out, like a tree shedding its leaves in autumn. Oishi loses his nervousness for an instant, and stands before us, tall and sure. But without the cards in his hand, he can't keep our attention.

Inui is already mumbling some equation, and beside him Momo proclaims the values of his card. It's not long before Kaido disagrees with him, and Eiji jumps in to try and make things go his way. Oishi stares at us in openmouthed shock as things escalate. I'm simply standing in the thick of it, watching as Kaido and Momo threaten to rip the other's card to pieces.

Surprisingly enough, it's Momo who grabs Kaido's card, though. He looks like he's trying to show his rival the difference between their two cards, but Kaido isn't listening. He's lunging for Momo's card.

"Everyone! Now isn't the time! We need to decide together--" Oishi hollers. His attempt to calm the argument falls flat, however, and Momo and Kaido are still arguing over the cards.

"Hand it over, viper!" Momo howls. They each have a hand on Momo's card, and their energy is elevating.

The two of them grab at each other's shirts, pulling the other in a tight grip. Their energy is high, and it's obvious that they're too far involved to listen to the voices telling them to back down. This fight isn't really about whose card is better; it's not about anything, really. Two teenage boys trying to sort through their emotions. That's what this is.

"You two! Get a hold of yourselves!" Oishi yells, standing next to the pair.

"Stop!" Taka is also trying to come between them, pushing at the two.

It's this little push that makes the card rip in half. The sound of paper ripping fills my ears as everyone watches, silent and open mouthed. Half of Momo's card flutters to the ground. It seems like a bad omen; the very thing meant to cheer Echizen up tearing in half just like that.

Taka's face is full of remorse. Momo stares sorrowfully at his torn card while Kaido stands stock still. We stand in silence.

"Why don't we use a little bit of everyone's card?" My voice cuts through the silence like a bell in winter stillness. "I think this half of Momo's card would make an excellent start." I stoop down to pick up the fallen bit of paper from where it's blown.

"Hm, an interesting proposition. Yes, using a piece of everyone's card to make one single, large card seems to be the best option." Inui remarks.

Oishi looks delighted and relieved all at the same time-- rather like the father of a newborn. "Okay! Let's take a look at these cards…" Oishi says enthusiastically.

We all lay our cards before us, mine next to Taka's. It looks like some sort of a patchwork quilt with its strange mix of colors and designs. I smile, thinking this is the solution Ryuzaki wanted us to find.

"Oh, Fuji, I never knew you practiced calligraphy!" Taka says, peering at my card. "Waah, it's great!"

I laugh at Taka's expression; he looks like a poor boy eying a freshly made hot-cake. "Oh? Did you forget?" I tease. Taka is such easy bait. "We used to be in the same penmanship class, Taka," I near scold, but laughter ripples through my words like raindrops on a still pond. "Don't you remember?"

"Ah, was that right? Acha, I had forgotten!" Taka gives me a shaky grin. "But…what…does it say?" He looks at my card (really, it's just a piece of calligraphy paper) as one might look at a foreign language. "It _does_ say something, right?"

"Of course it does." I smile my most benevolent smile, but don't go on to tell my friend exactly _what_ is written on the page. It's far too much fun watching Taka's face twist as he tries to puzzle it out.

Around us, Eiji, Momo and Oishi argue about whose card should be put in the center. I look on in amusement, wondering what's going to happen next.

After all, life at Seigaku is always unpredictable.

* * *

…tbc…

Thoughts?


	9. Part Nine: Catheter and Get Well Cards

**Title:** Double Fault (a "Prince of Tennis" fanfic)  
**Warnings:** Mature themes.

**Author: **(: attackfish, LJ: bowlofkaki)

**Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis does not belong to me. I am not making any money off of this. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary: **Ryoma's stuck in the hospital. As he experiences the trials of chemotherapy, he must learn to live with his disease. How will he and his family-- and his friends on the tennis team-- cope? First person present, switching PoV.

* * *

_(Echizen PoV)_

Chemotherapy sucks. It's only my third day of chemotherapy, but it feels like so much longer. I feel sick to my stomach all the time, and very, very tired.

What's worse, the anticancer medicines are doing away with my "body's natural defenses." The doctor explained it to me, but I still don't get it. It's supposed to be why they moved me to isolation. Really, I don't get why they moved me.

Nurse Saori said it's because my immune system _will_ be affected. The doctors are just trying to make sure I don't get sick while my immune system's down. Saori said that the medicine isn't smart enough just to 'attack' the cancer cells-- that it goes after the healthy cells, too. That's why my mouth has sores all over the inside, and why some kids' hair falls out. It's also why I feel sick after taking it.

All I know is that it's awfully boring being stuck in one room all the time. I feel like a bug in a jar. Anybody who comes in my room has to wear a mask and a special, disinfected gown.

My dad brought me my school books, but I just don't feel like doing any of it. I feel too tired and too sick to sit around and do _homework_.

My dad doesn't like the masks, the gowns or all the hand washing. Once he does all that stuff to get in here he just paces around here-- not that there's a lot of room to pace. Mom came in to talk to me earlier this morning, but she had some business phone conference and had to leave.

Dad only ever leaves to get some food or when the doctors kick him out, usually to get my blood sample. I don't mind the finger pricks so much; they're just a quick jab and then it's done. Plus, it's easy to see why they want to check my blood. The worst test is one where they test your pee. I can't stand that.

Mom and Dad are arguing about "the treatment." Mom wants to get a second opinion, and to switch hospitals. Dad wants to stay here. They argue out in the hall; I can hear them outside my door.

I feel so sick all the time...I dream about playing tennis, but it seems like I'm _never_ going to get out of here...blood tests, finger pricks, IVs, pills...it's a never ending thing.

"Excuse me," a voice interrupts my thoughts. "Hello Ryoma, it's Saori." I can't see her face with the mask on, but it sounds like she's smiling. I guess she's not in here for some test.

I blink dully at the bag she's carrying.

"I need to talk to you about a few things." Saori sits on the freshly sterilized chair next to my bed. "Your parents are talking to the doctor out there," she begins, "did they tell you what they're talking about?" She asks the question carefully.

I give Saori a sour look. "And?" She should know nobody told _me_ about anything.

"Well, the doctor is telling your parents about catheters. A catheter is something that will keep you from getting poked so many times for IVs and chemotherapy." Saori looks me straight in the eye, as if to make sure I'm listening. "You see, your veins can only handle so many needle pokes, and after that we can't use them any more. So, the doctor wants you to have a catheter to keep your veins nice and healthy." Saori tilts her head. "Do you understand?"

I stare at her. What about my veins? I'm not liking the sound of this. I nod anyways, not able to think of any questions.

Saori fumbles with her bag, and pulls a doll out. She lifts the doll up. "This doll has a 'Hickman catheter.' You see the little tube on his chest?" Saori points to the two tubes dangling from the dolls chest. "When we put an IV in, or need to give him a shot" she shows me a sterile syringe, "he doesn't feel anything."

"It doesn't feel anything anyways; its just a doll." I say, folding my arms. I don't like the look of that tube hanging out of that doll's chest.

"Well, kids who don't like needles like to know that." Saori explains it to me patiently, like I were a little kid. "Now, let me show you how we clean it.

"This type of catheter needs to be cleaned every day, and flushed out after we use it. It can take a little while, but it's not hard." Saori takes a little clamp and puts it on the tube. "We're clamping it here so no air gets into the tubing," she cleans off the end with a prep pad, and sticks the needle in it. "See? Easy." Saori tapes the tubing to the doll's chest, and finishes with the example. "Do you understand?"

"Why do you tape it down?" I ask.

"So it doesn't get caught on any clothing, or accidentally pulled at." Saori explains. "You'd need to avoid any rough play with this catheter."

I nod, and Saori sets the doll aside.

Saori picks up another doll, this one without any tubes, just a small bump on the doll's chest. "This is a port-a-cath; it's underneath the skin. We don't need to clean this one every day; it's cleaned just once a month." Saori gestures to the little bump. "We can access the port-- the entry-- with a special needle like this," Saori shows me the needle, and swabs the bump. "It's a lot easier than having to search for a vein every time. Also, we can put some special cream on it so you don't even feel the needle."

"And you can move around?"

"Yes, you can move around." Saori shakes her head. "There aren't any restrictions on activities either, because there aren't any tubes that could be pulled on. Any other questions?"

I shake my head. Saori puts the doll away.

"Now, I want you to think about which one you like best," Saori says. "The Hickman catheter needs to be cleaned every day, but it doesn't hurt every time we need to go in for a blood test. You'll only feel the needle going in with the port-a-cath. What do you think, Ryoma?"

"I don't want _any_ of those things stuck in me! I just want to get through this and go home." I fix Saori with a glare.

Saori is quiet, sitting across from me. She sets the bag down and folds her hands in her lap. "I know it's no fun being stuck here."

I snort. 'No fun' doesn't cut it. All this medicine makes me feel sick all the time, and now they want to stick tubes in me.

Saori looks me in the eye. "No matter how much it hurts, or how scary it is, though, I want you to remember we're all trying to help you get better.

"I'll tell the doctor to stop by later to ask you about the catheter."

Saori moves to take my hand, but I move it away. If this were a tennis match, Saori and the doctors are my opponents. Saori gave me a hard ball…

I don't know if I have the strength to hit it back to her.

* * *

_(Momoshiro PoV)_

Things are going great; we've got pieces of almost everybody's card picked out. Well, actually only _my_ card has pieces picked out…everybody else is gluing their card to the others. It's a crazy card; lots of post cards glued onto a big autograph board.

"All right, easy, easy," Oishi tells me. He's watching me brush glue onto the back of my card, trying to direct every little action I make. "All right, Momo, now stick it on."

"Come on, co-captain," I complain. "I know how to use _glue_." But just as I say this, my hand hits the open glue container and falls onto our team card. "Aah!" I say, and start dabbing at the sticky mess.  
There's a smear of glue on Fuji's card, and a big glop on a blank card….whose is that?

"Aah, Fuji, sorry!" I say, dabbing at the glue some more.

"Don't worry so much, Momo." Fuji says while smiling like nothing happened. "We'll just glue something over the stain."

"Yeah, that seems like a good idea," I say. I rub my neck in embarrassment. "Um, whose card is this, senior?" I ask, trying to rid the card of the glob. It's just a picture of a guy rock climbing, no words or anything.

"Oh, that?" Fuji asks, and gestures to the blank card. "That's Kaido's card, Momo. You should know-- you were arguing over it earlier."

"Ah-hah, ha," I give an embarrassed laugh. Geeze, I completely forgot what the snake's card looked like.

I watch as Fuji cuts a clever shape from some of the construction paper. "There," he says, and sticks it on the mess of glue. "Now we'll have to find something to put on Kaido's card…"

"Um, about that…" I begin, watching Fuji eye some frilly paper. "Shouldn't we ask him about it?" I look around and spot Kaido sorting through the markers. "I mean, he might not want something on his card."

Fuji looks at me with his eyes closed and a thoughtful expression on his face. "Hmm…I suppose," he says at last, and then smiles. "So nice of you to think of him, Momo." He looks so gentle, but man, sometimes Fuji is just vindictive.

"Oh no!" Oishi calls from behind us.

I turn around to see him reaching after a colorful piece of paper, fluttering away in a gust of wind.

"Aaah, someone catch that card!" I yell. Fuji and I run after the card. It's blowing towards where Inui and Eiji are practicing.

"Stop!" I yell, waving at the seniors. "Watch out for the card!"

Inui can't take the ball back, though; it's already on course, ready to hit the card. The yellow-green ball hits the paper with a crinkling noise.

"No way!" Eiji says. He stares at the card in disbelief, as if he can't fathom how it might have gotten here. The card starts to drift again, but Eiji jumps up to catch the paper with his racket. "Got ya!" he calls out, and rescues the little wrinkled piece of paper. "Aaah, it's all dirty," Eiji says mournfully. "Sorry, Oishi." Eiji hands the wrinkled card to Oishi.

"Aah, I'm glad you caught it." Oishi gives a huge sigh of relief. "But it is pretty wrinkled, huh!" Oishi gives a nervous laugh.

Oishi looks at Eiji, and Eiji looks at Oishi, and they both burst into full blown laughter. I start laughing, too, though I don't really see what's so funny. We stand there beside the courts, laughing over our stupid card and I finally start to feel like things might get better again.

I just know it-- nothing can stand in our way.

* * *

_(Echizen, Rinko PoV. __I.e. Ryoma's mother.__) _

"Rinko, where do you think you're going?" Nanjiro asks voice low and serious. He had the nerve to follow me out here-- to follow me into the hall. Honestly, that man has been so tense; he's only making things worse, as up tight as he's been.

"If I told you once, I told you a million times, Nanjiro." I turn around slowly to face him. He's leaning against our son's door, like it's the most natural thing in the world. "I'm going to _work_." I can't help the exasperated edge in my voice. He's pushing this thing too far. _"One_ of us has to support this family."

"Hold on a minute, Rinko." Nanjiro says, his voice is serious. "The kid's not been well." Those eyes...those are the eyes my husband fixes tennis opponents with, not me. He hasn't looked at me like that in years. "You need to be _here_-- with him."

"I am here," I say, sticking my chin up and put a hand over my heart. "I'm with him right now, and I'll always be here." I look into those eyes, those intense, challenging eyes. Ryoma has his eyes. Ryoma looks at people just like this. The thought is enough to make me look away.

"Work?" Nanjiro reminds me. He's never been the type to let things go. "You _really_ want to get away from here, don't you?"

I flinch at his words. He doesn't understand. Not at all. "The thing is, well, this isn't going to pay for itself. This," I wave my hands around, including the whole hospital, "cost more than we have saved. I need to _work_." I look Nanjiro in the eye again. "For our son."

"You," Nanjiro says the word in a low, dark voice. Like it's a curse, or a derogatory word. "are supposed to be his mother. He doesn't _care_ if you're working to pay for all this-- he just needs you there when he's-- he's sick." We both know Nanjiro is thinking of watching our son vomit uncontrollably. It hurts to watch my son be so ill.

"Fine!" I say it a little too loud; the nurse down the hall gives me a look. "Fine. I'm not going to work. I'm going to get some coffee," I say at last, quieter this time. "There's a shop near the hospital that sells some fresh coffee—not this cheap instant stuff they have here." I want to stop arguing. To make Nanjiro realize I'm not running away from my little boy. I want him to see that I'm doing everything I can.

"You could stand to get out of here every once in a while." I say it slowly, like I'm working a splinter out. I feel guilty about asking the question so reluctantly. I don't know how we wind up arguing all the time, now that our son is so sick.

"Nah," Nanjiro dismisses my offer. "I don't really like coffee," Nanjiro relents, voice tired. He looks to the floor now. "Besides, one of the pretty volunteers is coming by soon." He's smiling with a hint of his old mischief now. "Wouldn't want to miss her!"

I scoff and look at my red heels against the white of the tile. We've been together long enough for me to know that Nanjiro doesn't mean anything by these comments. But still...

I wonder if he misses the _old_ me. A girl he met playing the sport he loved. But then, I never was a challenge for him with tennis. And besides...he has his son to play tennis with. A son who can go on and achieve the father's dream. A son who can reach for the top.

Nanjiro turns away from me, ready to go back in. "Don't stay gone too long, Rinko. His counts are too low for chemotherapy today, but he's still feeling bad." Nanjiro says, though he doesn't turn around to face me. I stare after his back, wanting him to turn around and look at me when he's talking.

It's strange hearing these words-- these _hospital_ words-- out of his mouth. Nanjiro is really trying to learn what's what in this strange new place. I don't understand these words, don't know what medicines-- toxins-- my son is or isn't taking today.

"I'll be back." I breathe, whispering the words like a promise. "I just need to get a breath of fresh air to calm my nerves. To see the sky." I'm still waiting for him to turn around and face me. When he doesn't, I continue, "Ryoma will be fine here-- you _did_ say you like this hospital."

"We'll still be here." Nanjiro breathes, pulling his arms up behind his head. At last he turns around to give me another look. His eyes are sharp, focused.

I walk down the hall, ready to be on my way.

* * *

(_Echizen PoV_)

"Surgery?" I say dubiously.

"Yes," Dr. Kobayashi says. "It's a routine procedure...we've scheduled you to go in tomorrow morning."

"I already told you-- I _don't want one_." I grumble, holding my ground. I give the doctor a glare, and say it again, "I _don't_ want some tube stuck in me."

Dr. Kobayashi looks to my father, as if he should say something to change my mind.

"Ryoma, you are going to be in and out of the hospital for at least a month. We need to e able to give you your medicines easily, without the risk of them getting where we don't want them. A port-a-cath is very safe, and most convenient for you," Dr. Kobayashi drones on. He's not listening to me.

"Ryoma, we picked the port-a-cath so you can keep playing tennis." Dad says.

This gets my attention.

"The other one, the one that hangs out," dad scratches his leg, looking like this conversation is a bother. "You would have had to avoid rough play. And, knowing you, you couldn't do that for too long." Dad reaches over the bed's railing to give my head a rub.

When I try and pry his arm off, Dad snatches his arm away like a bee stung him. He stares at me like he doesn't recognize me. I stare right back, wondering at his strange behavior.

"Er, you'd probably have pulled it out or something" dad finishes, giving me a strange look. "Anyways, the surgery isn't that big of a deal...you won't feel anything, or even remember anything from the operation." Dad digs one hand into a pocket for a tennis ball. He tosses it up and down as he talks. "It'll be done in less than half an hour, kid. Isn't that right, doc?"

"Yes, that's right, Mr. Echizen." Dr. Kobayashi shifts his weight, looking anxious to leave. "Press the call button if you need anything." Dr. Kobayashi smiles at me, and gives my pillow a pat. He leaves quietly.

"Ah, excuse me, sir," a familiar voice says from the door. The doctor moves aside and I see Nanako there, wearing all of the gear necessary to get into my room. "Good afternoon, Ryoma!" Nanako smiles cheerily. She looks very happy. "I'm a little early, but they said it was all right if I came up."

I make my bed rise up, glad for the distraction. "What are you carrying?" I point at a big bored she's trying to tuck behind her back. "What is it?" I crane my neck to try and see it better.

"Oh, this?" Nanako presents the thing with a flourish. It's an oversized autograph board, with all sorts of papers glued to it. "It's from your friends in the tennis club! Isn't it amazing?" Nanako sets the board on my lap.

I don't know where the guys got this big of an autograph board...it's bigger than most of the ones I've seen. On one side, there are signatures from every member of the team, spiraling over every centimeter of the back. Seven cards pasted on the front mostly cover the side with all the gold pieces imbedded. Everybody did their own card...

One card has a messy drawing, and two are pictures from a postcard. There's one with a bunch of calligraphy lines, and one that looks suspiciously like a math equation. I recognize Momo's messy handwriting right away. The last card looks more like a letter than a card, as long as it is. Huh. I look closely at the cards to see who made which one. "They made all of these?" I ask quietly. "How'd you get it?"

"Momoshiro brought it over before school started today," Nanako smiles warmly. "Isn't it wonderful? It's great that they're all being so helpful," Nanako chatters, filling my little room with noise. I don't listen to her babbling about how nice it is to get cards from my classmates. Instead, I read the messages from my friends.

"Oi, Ryoma," my dad raises his voice. "Nanako asked you if you were listening!" Dad snickers at this, obviously amused.

"Oh, Ryoma!" Nanako looks offended. "You ought to listen when people are talking to you!"

"Really?" I ask. I could care less.

"Ryoma, you're not being a good friend! It's not nice of you to leave your friends out like this. You ought to tell them you have leukemia-- I'm sure it would make you feel better. I can tell they're all worried. It would help to tell them the truth."

I make my bed go back down and put the board over my head. "How were your classes today, Nanako?" I don't want to talk about my friends, or talk about being sick.

"Oooh," Nanako sounds annoyed. She gives an irritated little noise. "You can be so hard to talk to!"

Behind her my dad snickers. I'm sure this whole thing is funny to him. Great.

"Just think about it. You've got to be lonely up here, even with uncle here." Nanako says very quietly.

I don't want the others coming up here. Nobody wants to come to the hospital anyways, so why even bother telling them where I am?

It's enough that I can't play tennis right now; I can't let everybody see me like this on top of that. I feel terrible and look even worse-- no way I'm letting them see me like this.

I'll get better soon-- sooner than anybody thinks I will. Then I'll go back and play tennis at Seigaku and it won't even matter anymore.

I can wait until then. I'll wait months if I have to.

* * *

…tbc…

Thoughts?


	10. Part Ten: Yukimura

**Title:** Double Fault (a "Prince of Tennis" fanfic)  
**Warnings:** Mature themes.

**Author: **(: attackfish, LJ: bowlofkaki)

**Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis does not belong to me. I am not making any money off of this. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary: **Ryoma's stuck in the hospital. As he experiences the trials of chemotherapy, he must learn to live with his disease. How will he and his family-- and his friends on the tennis team-- cope? First person present, switching PoV.

* * *

(Echizen PoV)

Whether the surgery actually took "less than half an hour" or not, I don't know. They knocked me out beforehand, and I don't remember anything afterwards until one o'clock. Dad said I was awake for part of the time-- I was really out of it, he said, but I don't remember that either.

The drugs they game me for surgery this morning have worn off and now my chest is sore and I have a headache. I glare at the bandage on my chest covering the small metal and rubber lump stitched under my skin-- the part where they stick me. There's a tube connecting to it that runs through a vein near my collarbone that goes to my heart. I think the whole thing is pretty creepy-- not to mention the whole left side of my chest throbs.

_Ton, ton, ton..._ A tennis ball bounces up and down.

"Dad, quit it." I mumble from underneath my pillow. He's still bouncing the tennis ball off the floor. He's been doing it all day. "It's annoying." I glare at my father from my bed.

Dad looks over at me, tennis ball in hand. "Hm? This?" he tosses it to the ground again with a grin.

"Stop throwing the stupid ball!" I want to yell, but it comes out hoarse. I wish my voice weren't so crackly.

Dad catches the little yellow-green ball and pockets it. He's not grinning any more.

"Why don't you get out of here? You _never_ leave-- you're always hovering over me." I fix my dad with a glare.

Everything about this place is bothering me today. If I could actually keep something down, I don't think I could eat this food. It's disgusting. Also, it's too clean in here, and too noisy. Worse, there's nothing to _do_ in isolation. A steady stream of nurses and medical professionals come in, bringing in food or medicine throughout the day, dad paces around the room and I get bored.

Dad looks over at me.

"All your pacing and throwing tennis balls, it's not--" I flop down on my pillows. I don't know what I'm saying. "You just have too much energy," I finish lamely. "Just get out of here; go play some tennis and get rid of all that energy."

I want it to sound like I'm doing him a favor, like I'm just trying to keep him from feeling cooped up. How it comes out, though-- it sounds like I'm sending him away for some other reason I don't want to think about.

Dad clears his throat, and thinks for a moment. "Do you..." he looks at me blankly, clearly at a loss for words. "...do you want anything?" His words are slow, like he's having a hard time understanding what we're talking about. Dad moves to stand by my bed now. "While I'm out."

I refuse to feel guilty about making him leave. He shouldn't stick around here, anyways-- I can tell he's got a ton of pent up energy.

I just wish he didn't sound so...uneasy. Like he really doesn't want to go.

"Get some more tennis videos," I say. "And tell me about your game," I add quietly, looking past him and out the window. I'd give anything to be able to go out and play a game right now. Too bad for me, 'cause I'm stuck in isolation, and therefore can't even get out of this room.

"All right." Dad says, still speaking slowly. I can tell he doesn't want to leave. Why does he even want to stay here? Usually he's sitting around the house, not even doing anything at all, but now he's not willing to go home.

"Don't lose," I add. "You can't lose to anybody else-- not until I beat you." I fix him with a glare, but can't help my smile. One of these days I _will_ beat him.

Dad nods briefly, a flicker of understanding flashing through his eyes. I watch him go out the door, relieved to have some time to myself. It's the first time I've been alone since coming here.

I look around the room and then close my eyes. The feeling of relief is short-lived; once I realize there's even _less_ to do in here without anybody else.

Determined not to get bored, I raise my bed upright and carefully hop off. I don't have an IV in right now so I don't have to worry about snagging it on anything. Now that I'm safely on the floor, I sit down in the little chair by my bed. I sit there, catching my breath-- how pathetic; climbing out of bed has me winded.

I'm sitting in the pink hospital chair thinking, 'If my dad or mom were in the hospital instead of me, I'd sit in this chair.' I shake my head, feeling a little guilty about the idea. But, still...if one of my parents was here, I'd come and visit...maybe even spend the night on an uncomfortable cot.

I let these thoughts run through my head until I feel good enough to get up and walk over to the window. It's too high up to see much of anything...it's much higher up than any usual window, and it can't be opened. I wonder why they even put a window in here if you can't even use it.

I stand there a few moments looking at the sunlight pouring through the window onto the wall. I wish I could go outside.

I go back to the chair, and give it an experimental tug. It won't budge; it's secured to the floor. Darn. I wanted to bring it over by the window. But I sit in the chair anyways, putting my feet through the arm so I can face the window.

I'm getting tired...I sit in the hospital, facing the window, and stifle a yawn. My head feels a little fuzzy, and still determined not to be bored, I think a little...I wonder how the Regulars are doing?

...I'm just going to close my eyes for a minute...imagining a game between me and...me and...

...sleepy...

...Karupin...

* * *

(Yukimura PoV)

"Yukimura! I'm glad to see you," Nurse Saori smiles at me from her cart. "Did you just finish with your lab work?"

"I nod. "All clear," I smile reassuringly. "I nod. "All clear," I smile reassuringly. "Just some blood work today. I only have one more bone marrow left until I'm in maintenance()"

"That's great," Saori smiles her big-sister smile; she's been telling me all along to think about getting better. "Are you going to go and play tennis from now?" she asks.

"Yes," I say, tilting my head to give her a look. "Of course I am, as soon as practice starts."

"Hmmm," Saori says, making an interested noise. "It seems like tennis is becoming very popular these days."

"Is that so?" I wonder what sort of game Saori is playing.

"Yes. There's a boy here who talks about it every time I see him!" Saori smiles again, looking amused. "He plays tennis, too." Saori looks at the clock on the wall and makes a little tisking noise. "Ahh, but it looks like I don't have time to go and visit him right now; I'm so far behind!"

"He plays tennis? What school does he go to?" I try not to sound too interested. So there's another tennis player in this place… "What grade is he in?"

"Hmm, I don't remember. You ought to go and ask him sometime. I'm sure he gets bored up here." Saori suggests. "You two would have a lot to talk about."

"Saori, you know I'm not a volunteer."

"You could be. You did say you wanted to be a part of the 'big brother' program we have here."

"I said I'd _think_ about it." I look at the clock, too. It looks like I still have two hours before practice starts. "Besides, you know how busy I am with tennis."

"Ah, yes, I know." Saori starts pushing her cart again. "He's in isolation right now, so you'll need to ask at the nurse station if he's aloud to see visitors. Tell them I asked you to give him this," Saori hands me a little book. Sudoku, a book full of number puzzles. "He's in isolation room B2."

I want to tell Saori that I'm too busy to go visit some stranger, or to tell her I already have plans, but Saori has been a great nurse and a better friend to me. I smile at her, resigned. "All right, I'll run your little errand. But if he's in isolation…I'm not so sure they'll let me in."

"They'll let _you_ in, Yukimura." Saori says over her shoulder. "Of course they'll let you in."

I shake my head, and start down the hall.

A few minutes later, the nurses give me permission to go in isolation room B2. It's strange to be on the other side of the door, to be the one who has to wear a mask and special gown. I go through the procedure methodically, thinking I'll only be a minute. I'll say hello, explain why I'm here and leave the book next to his bed and get out. Simple.

Once I'm in the room, the first thing I notice is that the bed is empty. There's a boy, a little younger than me, sleeping in the chair next to the bed. I get a nagging feeling that I've seen this boy before, but I can't quite place him.

…he must have just been admitted; he still has his hair. I wonder if it's uncomfortable sleeping curled up in a chair like that.

I could leave the book on the table and step out. There's no need to say anything to this sleeping boy, but in spite of this, I find myself stepping closer. I set the book on the nightstand and lean over the boy to wake him.

* * *

_(Echizen PoV)_

Someone is shaking me. "Wha--" I mumble. My mind is still fuzzy from sleep. I can't figure out why anyone is shaking me-- and for a moment, I don't even know where I am. Whoever's shaking my arm sure is persistent. I look up to see my offender's face. "…what are you doing?"

I blink blearily at the boy, trying to figure out who he is. He's not a volunteer; he's wearing a school uniform. Blue hair, and pale, pale skin…he looks like a doll.

The boy laughs at my question. "I should ask you the same thing. Why are you sleeping in that chair?" his voice is soft. It reminds me a little of Fuji. "Are the beds that uncomfortable?"

I flush at his question. "I wanted to get up and move around." I grumble, refusing to meet the smiling eyes peeking over the mask. "How'd you get in here?" I haven't had any visitors except for Nanako, and she only comes after 4:00-- when visiting hours start.

"The nurses said I could come in. And," the boy picks up a book, "Nurse Saori wanted me to give this to you." He pushes the little book into my hands.

I look down at it. The cover has "Sudoku" written all over it. "What's this? Math puzzles?" I have no idea why Saori would want to give me such a strange book.

"Ah," the boy answers. He looks around the room and gives a small sigh. "I never thought I'd be back in here again." He has a faraway look about him, like he's thinking of something that happened before. The blue-haired boy looks me in the eye as he continues, "This used to be my room, you know. Isolation B2…I spent a couple of weeks in here just a few months ago."

I stare up at the boy. So he used to stay in this room? That means he was a patient here… "Ah!" I exclaim, suddenly remembering that I've seen this guy before. "You were here a few days ago!"

He surprises me by laughing. "So you're the kid I saw!" he gives a good laugh, like it's the funniest thing. "I'm Yukimura Seiichi, from Rikkaidaifukuzoku. Nice to meet you."

"Echizen Ryoma. I go to Seigaku." I say.

"So, Saori tells me you play tennis?" Yukimura sits on my bed. "Do you like it?"

"Yeah, tennis is fun."

Yukimura watches me, as though he's waiting for me to say more. We sit there in silence for a few long moments. Yukimura slides off my bed, and stands beside me again. "How long have you been here?"

"Eight days too many," I grumble, wishing for the millionth time that I was somewhere else.

Yukimura nods, like he understands. In some way, I guess he does. _He_ used to stay here, in this room, even. Somehow that makes it okay.

"Your doctor?"

"Kobayashi."

"Ah. He's nice enough, wouldn't you say? He's one of the good doctors around here, even if he doesn't know how to deal with kids. Plus, he's always done a pretty good job with the protocols." Yukimura says, like we're talking about homeroom teachers.

Yukimura looks around the bare room, and his eyes stop on my card. "Hm, only one card?" he makes the statement into a question. "Does anyone outside your family even know you're here?"

I pull my legs out of the arm of the chair, and swing them to the ground. "Not exactly," I mumble. "My cousin told Momo that I was in the hospital, and then the tennis team made that thing," I gesture to the autograph board.

Yukimura flips it over, examining the postcards. "Fuji, Kawamura, Oishi, Kikumaru," he reads, "These are all regular players, aren't they?" Yukimura turns to look at me. "You must be the rookie player everyone keeps talking about...we'll have to look out for Seigaku this year, hm?"

"You play for Rikkai?" I ask, giving him an appraising look.

Yukimura laughs again, and nods. "I'm the captain, actually." His eyes smile over the mask. "Your captain is in rehab right now, isn't he? Our teams have a lot in common-- I'm just finishing rehab myself."

"You're _captain_ of Rikkaidai's tennis team?" I ask quizzically. How could he be captain if he has cancer? Doesn't that mean he'd miss a lot of practice, or even games?

"Yes, I'm captain." Yukimura gets that far-off look again. "My teammates wanted to keep me as captain, even after I was hospitalized late last year..." Yukimura looks at the card. "They were a great support to me, these past few years."

I look at him, wondering how long he's known he's had cancer. I quietly sit in the chair, waiting for him to continue.

Yukimura looks out the window for a few long minutes before speaking again. "I was diagnosed with leukemia during elementary school...I had gone into remission, but last year I had a relapse and had to have a bone marrow transfusion. My team knew I had cancer all along, and they stood right by me. It meant a lot to have their support, especially since my family couldn't come in very often."

Yukimura looks back at me. "You ought to tell your teammates, Echizen. They're the best support you could ask for." Yukimura heads for the door, but stops before going through. "You ought to wear a mask, too, y'know. Especially when you have visitors." Yukimura waves goodbye, and slips through the door.

"What a strange guy," I say. I slide out of the chair, and climb back into bed.

I turn on the TV and stare blankly at the news before I realize what I'm watching. Bored, I flip through a few channels to no success. Disgusted, I give up on TV and decide to take a nap.

After a few minutes of bored sitting, I realize sleep won't come. I lean over and pick up the phone on my bed stand. I poke a few buttons, and listen to the other line ring.

"Nanako? If Momo comes by tomorrow...it's all right if you tell him...yeah, they can come for a visit. Uh-huh. Bye."

* * *

…tbc…

Thoughts?


	11. Part Eleven: Visitors

**Title:** Double Fault (a "Prince of Tennis" fanfic)  
**Warnings:** Mature themes.

**Author: **(: attackfish, LJ: bowlofkaki)

**Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis does not belong to me. I am not making any money off of this. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary: **Ryoma's stuck in the hospital. As he experiences the trials of chemotherapy, he must learn to live with his disease. How will he and his family-- and his friends on the tennis team-- cope? First person present, switching PoV.

* * *

(Fuji PoV)

The train compartment is crowded, and the sounds of noisy talking fill my ears. The first years are excited to see their friend. The first years chatter is loud, though not all together lighthearted. It's as though they realize that something serious has happened. Whatever Echizen's in the hospital for, it's something big-- big enough to change the whole of the Seigaku Tennis Club.

How very like Echizen.

"Do you think he'll like it?" Sakuno is saying to her friend, clutching at a paper bag as though it were a living thing that might fly away without a moment's notice. The two girls set out to buy gifts for Echizen as soon as Momoshiro told everyone that Nanako gave him instructions to his hospital.

"I ride this train _all_ the time," Horio brags to the other first years. His voice is loud and brash.

Eiji is discussing a recent pro game with Momoshiro and Inui. Eiji tilts his head from side to side, and moves his arms around, like a whirligig in the wind. Really, I think they're just trying to fill the time. Beside me, Oishi stares out the window, lost in thought. They're all trying to avoid thinking about the very same thing-- why Echizen's in the hospital. But I'm not. I wonder why Nanako waited so long before telling us. Echizen has been gone for over a week now, and we still don't know why he's even in the hospital or for how long.

"This is Kashiwa Station." the electronic voice reports and we all cluster around the door, ready to find the hospital. One by one, like animals lining up for the slaughter, we step off the train. The train whirls and huffs as it continues down the track and the train crossing bells chime relentlessly. We gather in the corner of the exit to hear what Oishi has to say.

"The next bus leaves in twenty minutes, so we've got to run to catch it," Oishi says, looking at his directions.

"Eh? But you said it doesn't leave for twenty more minutes!" Taka says. He thinks for a second, and then adds, "ah, is it far?"

Oishi nods, our co-captain is ready for the run. "There's a bus stop a little ways from here." Oishi gestures down the road. "Okay! Let's get running!" Oishi yells, and we fall into place, running along the road in a large group.

On the way, we pass many shops, and then little houses. This part of Tokyo seems more quiet than where I live, though it's still bustling. I watch the little houses as we run by and think of my father's train set and the neat rows of houses it has.

Oishi checks his directions constantly, making sure we don't get lost. He sticks to Nanako's directions, though, so we make it to the bus stop just as it's pulling up. We file on the bus, first years panting, and the rest of us laughing and talking nosily. Despite it being a weekday, the seats are all filled, so we stand in the aisle, clutching at the rail above our heads. For twenty minutes we watch the passengers get on and off while we wait for our stop. Finally, we pay the toll and step off the old bus.

From here, we walk along a narrow road. We can see the hospital before we recognize it for what it is. It's a big building, a few stories high. It looks very modern. At last, we're on the hospital grounds when I see a sign.

_Kokuritsugan Center,_ the sign reads. An icy chill overcomes me as I read it. _National Cancer Center._ My heart drops like a heavy stone in a pond. There's a dull buzz in the back of my mind, a noise I can't place, and also can't hear over. My mind races and I find myself thinking of a headline I saw a few weeks ago. It was a short article about some kind of cancer on the rise in Japanese children.

I never thought that Echizen Ryoma would have cancer.

Around me, the others continue talking. The first years' conversation is lighthearted and simple, while my peers' conversation slows to a stop as they realize exactly which hospital we're at. A thousand possibilities run through my head...maybe the children's hospital ran out of beds, or this hospital is best with their insurance. I wish there could be some other way for our rookie starter to be here.

Taka and I exchange looks. Taka's face is tight and drawn-- the look of a worried friend. Momo and Kaido shrug nervously at each other. They've picked up on Oishi's worried expression, and get fidgety. I wonder if they can grasp the significance of the name of Echizen's hospital.

Everything's going to be different now.

We walk down the road, into the air-conditioned hospital. Here the first years quell their babble and an air of nervousness surrounds them.

"Excuse me, which floor is 12A on?" Oishi asks one of the receptionists hesitantly.

It's a very spacious, well-lit hospital. There are pink chairs for visitors to sit in, and a hallway to the left that serves as a waiting room. A quick glance tells me there are plenty of (outdated, most likely) magazines for anxious visitors and patients to read.

We go up the stairs, and down identical winding halls, and I find myself wondering if we're walking in circles. We walk in silence, like the halls in which we walk are sacred...or perhaps, cursed. Not even the freshmen dare to breathe a word before we go through the double doors marked "12A: Pediatric Oncology." My feet are heavy as we pass.

"Ah, we're here to see Echizen Ryoma...in room B2?" Oishi says it like a question, looking to the nurse at the station, as though she can explain something to him.

"B2?" The nurse asks. "Ah, Isolation room B2." She says. "Hm, Ryoma hasn't had so many visitors before!" She looks at all of us crowding the hallway. "But you can't _all_ go in at once-- there isn't enough room."

Oishi looks stricken. "You mean only a few of us can go in?"

"At one time, yes. Please go in small groups! I'll send someone over to show you how to go through." The nurse sends a girl in a pink apron away, presumably to find someone to take us to Echizen's room.

So Ryoma's in isolation...I wonder what this means for our teammate, and find myself wishing for good news. Somehow, this hospital seems like it has precious few 'good' things to share with its visitors. I look around to my teammates.

Everything's going to be different now.

* * *

_(Momoshiro PoV)_

"This way please," the pretty girl in a pink apron says. She's petite and has very long, black hair. She looks like the kind of girl who's always smiling. "Do all of you go to school with Ryoma?" she asks, smiling at us.

"Yep," Eiji chirps, taking two long strides to walk beside the girl. "We're all on the same tennis team!" Eiji jogs a few paces in front of the girl, then turns around to face her-- he's jogging backwards now. "Do you know the kid?" Eiji grins from ear to ear. These two could spend all day grinning at each other.

"I see him every time I come in. I'm a volunteer here, you see," she pulls at the string of her pink apron. "My name is Rina. I'm very glad to see that Ryoma gets visitors sometimes." She smiles again, and her eyes crinkle. She's awfully cute when she smiles like that.

We follow Rina down the hall and swing a right.

"Just a few people at a time would be best. Also, we need to get cleaned up as best we can before going in."

"I'm going first," I call out, raising my hand. I've been _dying_ to see Echizen for days now; I don't want to wait another second!

"Me too!" Eiji jumps at the chance to go in. "Oishi, me and Momo will go first! Oishi and me will make sure Momo does everything right!" Eiji flashes a grin at me and gives my shoulder a resounding pat.

Rina goes into the room, and we follow her in. Echizen isn't here-- I guess he's past the second door. We wash our hands and faces and put on a paper coat that smells of disinfectant, I make a face at the masks Rina hands us, but put I take it from her anyways.

"Why do we need all this? Isn't it a little much?" I look at the mask dangling from my fingers. I'll look like some sort of demented doctor wearing this!

"Ryoma's immune system-- think of it like his body's defenses-- isn't strong enough to fight off germs right now. So we want to keep all the bad germs away from him so he doesn't get sick." Rina explains-- she sounds like a teacher, or a doctor.

Defenses, huh? I don't really understand what she means by that, but it sounds serious. Don't people with AIDS have a bad defense something-or-other?

"Just do what she says, Momo," Eiji tells me. He's experimentally pulling at his mask, watching how far it stretches from his face.

Finally, Rina declares us ready to go inside. I push the door open, eager to see my friend.

"Oi, Echizen!" I say, a huge grin on my face. "Why'd you wait so long to tell us where you were?" It's good to finally see him again, even if it _is_ in a hospital. "Tennis practice is so _boring_ without you there-- well, haha, I mean it _can_ be boring, not that it always is--" I steal a glance at Oishi and laugh nervously.

"How are you, _ochibi_," little boy, Eiji's nickname for Echizen. Eiji beams at Ryoma, going over to stand next to his bed.

"I'm okay," Echizen says, but he sounds so tired. Like he hasn't slept for a month. I finally _look_ at him, and see that he really doesn't look well; he's much paler than I remember, and his hair seems dull. He smiles weakly at me, but his eyes are still sharp.

"Aah, it must be nice not having to go to class," Eiji sighs dramatically, leaning on the bed railing. "And you get all these nice cards and even a TV in your room!" Eiji moves to the foot of the bed, and hops up. "Hehe, this thing is pretty bouncy!" He bounces a little to demonstrate.

Echizen just looks at Eiji like he's an alien. "Um, Kikumaru, you probably shouldn't..."

"Eiji, he's not here to relax! Get off of there," Oishi scolds, but then looks to Echizen. "So, how long are you going to be here?" I can tell he really wants to know what _every_body wants to know; why is Echizen in the hospital? What does he have that put him into isolation?

"I don't know," Echizen shrugs, nonchalant. He looks like the same old Echizen for a moment; cocky and aloof.

I grin, happy to have him act like he always does. I feel like I can relax now, like there's nothing to worry about. Echizen's gonna get out of here in no time, right? Yeah, he's gonna get outta here in no time.

"Oh," Oishi says and he sits in the chair next to the bed.

There's not very much in here-- just a bed, the chair, a nightstand with a phone and a sports bag stuffed in between the nightstand and bed. There's also a tall, metal pole with a clear bag hanging down from it. An IV? I follow the tube from the bag, and see that it's connected to Echizen's chest.

I waver on my feet for an instant, surprised to see a plastic tube coming out of my friend's body. The feeling of unease comes back, this time stronger. I've never heard of tubes coming out of people's chest before. Could this thing Echizen has be serious?

I'm quick to look away from the tube, focusing on Echizen's face instead. He's glowering at me. Hoh boy. "So, uh, practice has been going pretty well...it got pretty hot..."

Eiji wanders to over to the window, and then sits on the ledge. "You're gonna have _so_ much practice to catch up to, _ochibi!_ Oishi has us practicing harder than ever for our game against Rikkaidai, y'know." At this, Echizen makes a funny face, but Eiji keeps on talking. "We're gonna win this one! It'll take us to nationals, you know!" Eiji flexes his muscles. "This year we're _definitely_ going to make it!"

Eiji's voice tapers off, and leaves us in an awkward silence.

I'm sure everybody can here me swallow, it's that quiet in here. Everyone's so still, just looking at one another. I sigh and try again. "At least they've got air conditioning in here...it's pretty hot outside, you know." I can't think of anything to say, can't think of any way to break the silence.

"Echizen, what are you in here for?" the words come out of my mouth before I even knew I was thinking them. My eyes meet Echizen's brown eyes, but I don't look away. I can't look away, now.

"She didn't tell you?" Echizen looks confused. He looks so small against the pillows.

I guess he means Nanako. I shake my head. "Nanako didn't tell me anything except how to get here," I say. My voice is oddly quiet, hesitant. Is it really me who's talking?

Echizen sighs, and closes his eyes. He sits like that for a few minutes, not saying a word. I'm starting to wonder if he fell asleep when he opens his eyes again.

"Ochibi?" Eiji says the nickname like a question.

"The doctors say I have leukemia...it's a kind of cancer." Echizen's voice is low, matter of fact. He doesn't look at any of us as he says it, looking instead in the space between Oishi and me.

I stand there, unable to think. It's like my brain has frozen up-- I can't make sense of what's happening. My ears ring and my body is numb. I watch as Oishi stands up, but everything seems so unreal. This has to be a dream. Echizen can't have cancer-- only old people-- who are gonna die anyways-- get cancer, not kids my age. Not Echizen.

"Oh, Echizen," Oishi says, eyes shining. He grips at the bed's railing. "You're gonna be fine! I mean, medicine these days has gotten a lot better," Oishi babbles. He's speaking so fast. "I mean, I saw this show on TV about a kid who had cancer, and he said that--"

Oishi is still talking, but it's like my ears don't want to listen. I only hear some of what he's saying. I watch him talking to Echizen. I can see his lips moving, but I don't hear a word. Oishi looks so hopeful, so determined. It's like he thinks if only he acts right everything will get better.

Echizen looks at Oishi like he's crazy or maybe Echizen's just confused. Maybe he's not listening either, or maybe Oishi started saying something really weird.

Eiji moved back over here sometime when I wasn't looking. He looks like he's thinking about something really hard. "O," he starts to say, but it sounds like there's something caught in his throat. Eiji's face is strange, tight and unreadable. When he tries to talk again, I realize what it is that looks so strange. Eiji looks like he's going to cry. Instead of saying something, anything, he just makes a tiny little noise, like the sound a kitten might make.

Oishi stops talking and looks at Kikumaru. "Eiji," he says, and straightens up. He stands there, a concerned look on his face, but doesn't say anything more to him.

Echizen's eyes are wide, and his hands clench at the bedcovers. I've never seen him look so emotional...it reminds me of when Tezuka played in that match. He's making that face.

"Sorry, Echizen," Oishi says. He puts a hand on Eiji's shoulder. "We ought to go." He gives Eiji a little nudge towards the door, and then turns to look at Echizen. "Get plenty of rest! You'll be back on the courts before you know it. Everyone is cheering for you!"

I follow my senior classmates to the door. I turn around to look at Echizen, but no words come to me. "See you," I say, but the mask muffles the words so much that I wonder if he even heard me. I hurry through the door, leaving Echizen alone on his bed.

What does this mean for Seigaku? What does this mean for _Echizen?_

* * *

_(Echizen PoV)_

I stare after my senior classmates minutes after they leave.

This isn't the visit I expected. Kikumaru isn't supposed to act so upset, and Momo definitely isn't supposed to be so quiet. He looked like somebody smacked him.

I fidget in my bed, tempted to get out and go see everyone in the hallway. To go see everyone at the same time, instead of waiting here for them to come to me. I could explain everything, or somehow take back those words. I could see them all talking out there in the hallway and somehow make everything better.

But I can't get out of bed. My stomach hurts more than usual, and I have a terrible headache. The medicine they gave me today had me throwing up all morning. I couldn't eat or even drink anything. Now they've got me hooked up to some kind of medicine, or maybe just something to keep me hydrated. I really don't know.

Yukimura used to stay in this room...he told me I should wear a mask. I look over at the nightstand, and the mask there. It's a little hard to reach, but I manage. The mask feels funny on my face...I don't like how it makes my lips warm, or how it constricts my breathing.

My port-a-cath-- I learned the name of the tube in my chest-- is still a little sore. I don't want to move around any—not with the needle in it. Besides, the doctor said any little tear around the port could get it infected. That scares me more than anything. I've never really had anything to be afraid of, before all of this.

Before...it was just school and tennis. Lots of tennis. If I did get sick-- which I hardly ever did-- I'd sleep some and get better. Or maybe go to the doctor for some medicine, but then be back in school in a day or two. Here in Japan, I have friends to do stuff with, and it was never scary.

Now everything's so different. Now I have a tube in my chest that might get infected. From now on I have to be careful of it, and always go straight to the doctor if anything feels weird. Now shortness of breath and fever are a big deal. Shortness of breath and weakness could be a _life threatening_ complication. Fever could be a sign of infection. Infection means stopping chemotherapy and taking antibiotics. The doctor's don't like to put chemo off.

It feels weird seeing my friends here...before, I could pretend that I could just go back to school and nothing would have changed. It was like Seigaku was in another world. Now my classmates are a part of this one-- a world full of blood tests, chemo and IVs. I feel like I don't fit in.

I don't like how they looked at me. What are they thinking? Seeing Kikumaru act like that makes my stomach twist into tight knots.

"Ryoma," a high-pitched, chipper voice distracts me from my thoughts. "We brought get-well-soon gifts!"

I blink at coach Ryuzaki's granddaughter and her loudmouth friend. Sakuno and Tomoka are their names, I think.

"Isn't it great?" Tomoka grins. She unfolds a large banner between her and Sakuno.

The banner reads, 'Get well soon, Roma.' I stare at it, and at Tomoka. What on earth did she think I'd do with that thing?

"Look Ryoma," Ryuzaki's granddaughter says, gesturing to the banner, "everyone signed it!" She speaks so quietly that I almost can't hear her with her mask on. "We can hang it up for you, if you'd like. Ms. Rina already said we could."

I shrug at them.

"Um, Ryoma?" Sakuno looks at me with big, worried eyes. "Oishi said that you're really sick...and that we shouldn't do anything to make you tired," she twists the banner around in her hands, wringing it fretfully.

I don't say anything.

"Ryoma isn't _that_ sick, right?" Tomoka says, looking at Sakuno in surprise. "Oishi just wants us to behave, right?"

Why do I have to be the one to explain to everyone? I look away. "I'm not that sick," I mutter under my mask, but I don't know if they could hear me. My head is spinning and my stomach hurts more than ever. I lay back down, pausing to let my stomach calm down.

"Ryoma?"

Sakuno's worried voice irritates me. I wish they'd leave me alone. I don't feel like talking. But then, when I could almost tell them to get out, Sakuno puts a cold towel on my head. I open my eyes, startled.

"You look like you don't feel good...should I get the nurse?" Sakuno frets. She always has tried to force her care on me. I guess she found one of the packaged towels...she's clutching the wrapper.

I stare at her, wondering why she even came. "I have leukemia. It's a kind of cancer." I say it slowly, matter of fact.

Sakuno steps back, startled. Her eyes are huge, scared. She looks like she's thinking about something, but what I can't tell. Maybe she wants to get out of here. Tomoka makes a little gasp, staring at me. She lets the banner fall to the ground, a quiet _whss_ in the silence. Neither of them says another word. Their silence is worse than anything they could have said. Why don't they say anything?

I close my eyes again, this time annoyed. I don't like all these visitors. It's no use telling them what I have-- nobody really understands. I know my face is cross, angry. "You guys should get out of here." I say softly.

"Ryoma," Sakuno says, but I don't look at her. I don't want any pity, but more than that, I don't want to see her looking at me like I'm something to be afraid of.

I hear the door open and close, and then nothing. Alone in my room again, I wonder if anyone even can understand any of this.

I don't think I do.

* * *

_(Fuji Pov)_

I stare at the door, counting the minutes before Sakuno and Tomoka exit. Waiting here with everyone so tense reminds me of another time of tense waiting...waiting to hear word from Tezuka. Everyone is nervous; everyone is tight with anticipation or worry. The only ones who seem less affected by this atmosphere are the other first years are babbling around me, talking of things of little consequence and less substance.

Behind me, Momoshiro paces step after step, his energy mounting with every passing second. He looks like he needs to be doing something-- needs to be moving. I watch him pace around like a jungle cat in a cage, watch him stop and glower at the wall. An array of emotions passes over his face, emotions I can't read and don't understand. Suddenly, Momoshiro slams a fist into the wall. He swears angrily while everyone watches.

"Momo!" Oishi reprimands. "This is a hospital; you need to be quiet!"

Oishi and the others haven't told us anything about Echizen's condition, only that he's very ill. But their demeanor gives them away-- whatever Echizen has, it's serious.

The girls finally emerge from the room, like two fragile moths looking only at some bright light and nothing else. They don't look at anyone, or say anything. The hallway is utterly silent.

"All right! You girls took too long!" Horio gruffs, oblivious to the uneasy silence surrounding him. "It's our turn to go see Echizen!"

I place a hand on Horio's shoulder. "Sorry, but Taka and I are going to go in first." There's no room for argument in my voice.

I look over at Taka and he nods. We go through the door, and Rina shows us the masks and paper coats. I wonder if this is how a surgeon feels just before he operates. We go through the door and into isolation room B2. Echizen is lying on the bed, looking exhausted. I suppose all of these visits would tire a person.

"Hello, Echizen," I say and move over to his bed. "Good to see you."

"Fuji, please--" Echizen's voice is tired, sick. He sounds miserable. "There's a bucket--"

But Taka grabs the bucket before I can, and he puts it in Echizen's reach. Taka leaves one hand to steady the bucket, and the other goes on Echizen's back. "Steady now, Echizen. I know you're probably fed up with visitors, but this isn't going to scare me off," Taka smiles at Echizen, who struggles to get his mask off.

I slide my fingers under the strings, and pull the mask from Echizen's face. I'm reminded of pulling leaves from an artichoke, but instead of the rich heart, this leaf is hiding the face of a child. It's strange, seeing Echizen here in the pediatric ward makes me think of him as a child, though I'm not much older than him myself.

Echizen looks miserable, and his cheeks are flushed. I wonder briefly his cheeks change colors because he's embarrassed or some more sinister reason. Echizen breaths unsteadily, like the effort has winded him.

"Should I get the nurse?" Taka asks gently when Echizen is finished. Taka sets the bucket on the floor.

Echizen shakes his head slowly. "No. I've been sick like this all day."

I reach past the paper gown and into my pocket. "Do you want a piece of gum?" I dangle it in front of him; I'm sure he'd like to rid his mouth of the taste.

Echizen's slender fingers grasp the stick and he smiles at me. "Thanks, Fuji." He says simply, and unwraps the gum as slowly and carefully as a child might open a birthday gift.

Echizen's bed is full sized, with metal rails on the side. Echizen looks all the smaller among the blankets and pillows. The covers are pale yellow, and the pillows are an eye smarting shade of white.

"Don't you get bored?" Taka asks, looking around the sparse room. "You don't have a whole lot here..." Taka smiles brightly. "Tell you what; I've got a bunch of tennis magazines at home. If you'd like I'll bring them in," Taka offers. He looks pleased to have thought of something useful to do for Echizen.

"Hm, I've got a couple of magazines, too...and Yuuta's old comics. I might as well help him clear some space and bring them here." I smile at the thought, sure of Yuuta's reaction.

Echizen looks at Taka and I with wary surprise. "You don't have to do that," but he seems interested in those tennis magazines, nonetheless.

I laugh, thinking he seems like a child politely turning candy away when he in fact desperately wants some. "We'll come by tomorrow with a few."

"I've got so many that I'm sure my dad will be glad to have them out of the house," Taka explains, smiling at Echizen's face. He looks at the TV mounted to the wall, and then to the banner forgotten on the floor. "Aah, look the banner fell..." he moves to pick it up. "Where should I put this?"

"I don't want it," Echizen says, voice flat. "Make me a different one; one that says 'go Seigaku' or something." He looks so sure of himself, so set in this idea. I wonder, does he not want to remember that he's sick? I feel a frown pulling at my lips.

"All right," Taka says, uncertain. "But I'll leave this one with you anyways. We'll just roll it up and set it here." Taka rolls the banner in silence as Echizen and I watch.

Echizen looks tired; his eyes are drooping a little. I'm going to get sleepy watching him drift off. I tilt my head, thinking. I don't want to think about how serious this may be, or what might be wrong with Echizen. I'm afraid Echizen wouldn't like my response to such depressing thoughts. We're here to cheer him up, not depress him.

"There," Taka says. "It ought to stay like that." He gives the poster an experimental tap, daring it to fall over. My lips twitch, thinking about what Taka might do if it _did_ fall over. What an amusing thought.

"Are we really playing Rikkaidai next?" Echizen asks suddenly, eyes flashing with curiosity.

How queer. I wonder at his interest in the opposing school, but I suppose it could just be that he wants to know what's going on with Seigaku. I look at Echizen, trying to determine his thoughts.

"Yes; we're playing them to decide whether or not we go to nationals. The game's not for two more weeks." Taka seems to think Echizen wants to know about the tennis competition schedule. I wonder, is that really it?

Echizen tilts his head back, a contemplative expression coming over his features. "Two weeks..."

Surely everyone in this room is thinking the same thing: will Echizen be able to take part in this game? Will he even be able to come and watch? Silence pursues.

"Aren't you going to ask me why I'm here?" Echizen breaks the silence.

I give him a sidelong glance, but pause before replying. "No."

"Why not?"

"You'll tell us when you're ready," Taka says easily.

I smile, glad to have Taka with me. He's a dependable person, and usually quite cheerful and upbeat. He's a good person to have as a visiting partner. I wonder if he'll be willing to take time out of his father's shop to come with me more often. I shrug these thoughts aside for later.

Echizen doesn't smile; he sits there, thinking. Finally, he says, "tell the others I don't want any more visitors today," he lets his head hang, wilting onto the pillow like a flower in the summer heat. "I'm too tired."

"All right," I say.

"No problem." Taka adds, and then laughs. "Good thing we came in next, huh Fuji?"

I smile at Taka, and he grins back at me. Taka really does look on the bright side of things. I turn to Echizen, and ask, "Do you want us to go?" He really does look sleepy right now. He looks like he's ready to doze off.

"You can stay a few more minutes," Echizen says, but this is his way of saying yes, he does want us to go.

I sink into the chair by the bed and let the minutes pass without a word. It's good to know he doesn't want to throw me out...yet. I smile at the thought, and contemplate my own silence. This atmosphere isn't heavy as it is outside in the waiting room. It's a calm, relaxed silence. We simply don't have anything to say to one another.

"So, it was great seeing you," Taka says, offering a smile. I guess he thinks Echizen is ready to go to sleep. "We'll head on out now. Do you want to say anything to everyone?"

Echizen blinks. It looks like he was already half asleep. "Tell them 'hi,'" he says simply.

I smile, and place a hand on Echizen's bed. "See you tomorrow, then." As we're making our way to the door, I think about our tennis team. I wonder, will this bring us closer together, or will it mess everything up? A part of me wonders which one would be more interesting, but truthfully, it looks like things will be interesting enough without anything falling apart.

"You're really not going to ask are you?" I turn around to see Echizen smirking from under his cap. Something about the smile seems misplaced. Echizen seems confused and exhausted more than cocky, or even amused. "How troublesome." He looks me in the eye now, daring me to do something. "I have leukemia...it's a type of cancer."

If he's trying to goad me into something stupid, this hand won't work. I merely nod. "You can fight this, Echizen." I say. My voice sounds low in my ears, like it's coming from the depths of someplace I don't usually think about.

"We're all standing behind you, Echizen." Taka says. His voice light with confidence, and his expression hopeful. That's Taka for you; you'll never see him down when somebody needs a friendly face.

Echizen watches us leave from the bed. I wave good-bye, and look at his eyes as the door swings shut.

* * *

…tbc…

Thoughts?


	12. Part Twelve: Talking about Tennis

**Title:** Double Fault (a "Prince of Tennis" fanfic)  
**Warnings:** Mature themes.

**Author: **(: attackfish, LJ: bowlofkaki)

**Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis does not belong to me. I am not making any money off of this. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary: **Ryoma's stuck in the hospital. As he experiences the trials of chemotherapy, he must learn to live with his disease. How will he and his family-- and his friends on the tennis team-- cope? First person present, switching PoV.

* * *

(Echizen PoV)

I'm thirsty.

I wish I had some Fanta right now. That's what I'm thinking when I wake up. It's dark outside, and the lights are dimmed, so I figure it's been several hours since everyone came to visit. I fell asleep not too long after they all left and just didn't wake up, 'till now. I wonder if one of the nurses would get me a drink.

I sense someone moving around, fidgeting in the chair by my bed. Huh. I guess my dad came back sometime when I was sleeping. I watch him through squinted eyes, thinking. I know I told him to go away for awhile, but I was kind of surprised that he stayed gone so long...he's been out for a whole day.

"Ah-ha! You _are_ awake," my dad says, moving side to side in order to see my face. "Trying to fool your old man now, huh?" he grins wide in my face, hovering close to me.

"Dad," I complain, leaning away from him. "Get away," I say, not caring that I sound grumpy. He doesn't deserve to be well treated-- not when he's inches away from my face. Right about now, I wouldn't mind wearing a mask so he can't see my face. Dad always does the strangest things to embarrass me.

Dad grins at me, eyes crinkling above his mask. "So, how'd you spend all your alone time?" He settles back into his chair. He looks like he's ready for a long story.

I look at him, trying to figure out what he means by this. Can he tell I got bored? Maybe _he_ got bored, or even lonely. Really, what does he expect me to have done? I can't even get up and move around, I've seen all the videos we brought with us and I don't like talking on the phone. "Slept a lot." I grumble.

"Nurse Saori told me you had a few visitors," he scratches at his chin, looking at me sideways. He's out to get answers, whether or not I want to give them. He's like a cat with a fish, as persistent as he is.

I think about Karupin at home, and wonder how he's doing. I wonder if he misses me, or if he even knows that I'm gone. Does he still sleep in my bed? I wish I could bring Karupin here, just so he wouldn't get too lonely.

I shove these thoughts away, and answer dad's question. "Yeah." I say, reluctant to tell him about it. I miss my cat and want to sleep in my own bed, where everything doesn't smell like disinfectant and I can leave when I want to.

I still don't really understand what happened today, anyways...Momo, Kikumaru and the girls acted pretty strange. I don't know how I feel about that, except that it makes my stomach do flips.

"It was the kids from Seigaku, wasn't it?" Dad persists. When he starts an argument, nothing can stop him from getting away from it. He has a big, stupid grin on his face.

"Yeah, they came."

Dad gives a huge sigh. "Jeez, when you don't want to talk about something, it's like I'm talking to a rock! Man!" He scowls to the floor, but it's an amused look—the kind he gets when he talks about me playing tennis.

We sit there, me on my bed watching my dad roll his eyes. He sticks one leg over the side of the chair. I look around the room again. There's nothing to look at though, so my eyes wander back to my dad. Finally, I give in and ask what I want to know. "What did you do?" I ask, curious about the bag he brought with him.

"Oh, me?" he closes his eyes and starts to pick at his nails. "I hung out around the house and dug up a couple of old videos..." he opens one eye to look at me. "And I found a tennis court, but there weren't really any interesting people to play against..."

I look at him hard. "But you played, didn't you?" I have to know; is he playing tennis with someone else? Will he play even when I'm in the hospital? I don't know if it'd be better if he did or didn't. All I'm thinking about right now is that I want to know. Who'd he play with, and where?

"I got a ball machine for a while..." he looks at me again to see if I'm listening. "But, I played one game, yeah."

I close my eyes and my stomach falls. It should be me that he's playing with, not somebody he doesn't even know. Why'd I tell him to go out and play, anyways? "Were they any good?"

"He's not near as much fun as you, no, brat."

I smile a little, under my hat. I guess a game for him now and then _will_ keep him from bugging me as much.

Dad digs through the bag, and hands me a few of the tapes. All of these are marked with handwritten labels. Home videos, huh? I look at my dad. "Are these...?" I let the question dangle.

"The only videos left in the house we hadn't brought already, kid."

I take a closer look at the labels...there are a few videos of me when I was younger, and...I hold the tape up, questioningly. "Grand slam? These are the videos of you playing pro tennis." I look at him. He's never shown these to me before. Why did he bring them out now? I watch him closely, trying to find an answer.

Dad nods. "There's a few more in the bag..." Dad covers a yawn, and stretches. "Your mother's drama series—that one she taped a while back...and a few of the tapes you watched when you were a baby," he opens his eyes again, looking right at me as he continues; "those are in here, too."

What'd he bring these for? I've barely even seen old pictures of my parents, much less videos. He's had me playing tennis since before I can remember, but he's never shown me any of his old games. I've never seen him play in an even match. I look at my dad intently as I hand the videos over. "Start with the earliest one," I say, and settle back to watch the pro games.

I've got a little time before they come in with some more medicine-- something to help with the nausea, and something to make me sleep. Then I'll watch the video until I can't keep my eyes open any longer...I've been spending so much time in bed, so much time sleeping. It's frustrating, even though I really am very tired.

Dad gets up to put the video in the machine, and presses play. He stands there, by the TV for a few seconds to make sure it's running properly. After a few minutes, the video is playing. This is the broadcasting of the games, even with the old commercials. I watch these with some interest, curious about old products I don't even remember.

Beside me, my dad clears his throat. "Eh hem," he says, and puts a hand on my bedrail. "Your cat is going crazy at home without you there…he bit my foot more than usual last night." His lips go down, like he's trying to grimace, but he looks more amused than anything. Dad is a terrible liar, even if it's just trying to frown when he wants to smile. "So, I, uh, was out yesterday." He shoves a paper bag on my lap.

I look at it curiously, looking at the "Rakuten! Vintage!" written in bold print on the bag. What is this? I give my dad a quizzical look, but he only gestures for me to open it. I peer into the bag, and pull out the crumpled tissue paper.

The announcers have begun talking on the TV, but I'm not watching. Inside the bag, there's two furry ears…I pull it out. "It's a cat," I marvel, looking at the furry body. It looks a lot like Karupin, except for the face. Not only is this cat's face brown, but its whole chest is brown. It's not as soft as Karupin, either, but it has the same color eyes. I smile at the cat, and throw the bag at my dad. "Is it mine?"

"Yeah. What are you going to name it?"

"It's a stuffed cat; it doesn't need a name."

"Sure it does," dad says, stuffing the tissue paper back in the bag. He's watching the announcers speculate about the game's winners, and not really watching me or the cat at all.

I put the cat next to me and settle down to watch the video. Still, it is a nice cat. It must have been hard to find one that looks so much like Karupin…

"Your mother had a pressing business meeting, so she couldn't come today…it's looking like she'll be out of town for the rest of the week." Dad says, eyes wandering around the room. "She wanted to come this morning, though, but she had to leave for Osaka, you know. She's working pretty hard."

"Oh," I say. Osaka? I wonder if Osaka is nice around this time of year, and what mom's doing. Maybe she's drinking her American style coffee in a hotel somewhere, or maybe she's in some late meeting. Mom has a lot of meetings. "All week, huh? So she'll be back on Saturday?"

"I'm not sure…she kind of hung up on me…" Dad says, rubbing his shoulder. He rotates his neck and stretches some more, trying to get comfortable. "Well, whenever she gets back she'll be right down here. She cares for you, kid. A lot more than she lets on sometimes."

They must have had a big fight. Dad doesn't usually talk so nice about mom…I wonder if they were arguing about me, or if dad was arguing about her going back to work. My stomach drops and I feel cold. I pull the blanket up higher around me. Things are changing in my family, but I'm just not quite sure how.

I still want to get out of here, and I still would rather be out on the tennis court. All this chemotherapy makes me so sick, though, I'm not sure I'd be able to _do_ anything if I actually got on the courts.

Today's been a hard day. This whole _week_ has been pretty hard. I don't even want to think about everything that's happened in the past two weeks or so. I've been checked into the hospital for two weeks now, and out of school for just as long. My friends finally know what's going on, though, and I've lots of tennis videos to watch. So in a way, things are looking up. Sort of.

Tomorrow, I'll ask the doctors to let me go outside, and I can finally get a breath of fresh air. They'll probably say no, and I'll probably be stuck in here all day again. More tests, more medicines-- or am I off chemo tomorrow?-- and more long days. Some life I have going.

I want to look forward to tomorrow, but I just can't find the energy.

* * *

_(Yukimura PoV)_

"Yes, of course," I say, keeping my tone demure. I smile at the woman behind the Volunteer Information counter, and accept the pamphlet she gives me. The pamphlet is heavy in my hand, and slick against my fingers. I slip it into my bag and go up the elevator with the thoughtless ease that comes from coming here so often.

I look up from my thoughts to see the sign-- 12A Pediatric Oncology. I look at it, taking in the detail of this simple sign. "I just can't seem to get away from here," I put a hand on the wall, thinking.

"Oh, is that right?" Saori's familiar voice reaches my ears. She's pushing a cart stacked with plates from breakfast. I smile at the nurse and nod a greeting in her direction.

Without waiting for me to explain my being here, she speaks with a knowing look over her narrow features. "If you're looking for Ryoma, he was moved out of isolation two days ago. He's back in room 510."

I guess it's not too hard to guess why I'm here. For a brief moment I wonder if she knows about the pamphlet I have hidden in my backpack. Saori has known me through some of the most important times of my life, so it wouldn't be too surprising if she can see through me so well. I brush the thought aside, though, and smile a little.

"Hmm," I say, and then add, "thank you." My words are frosted with a polite edge. Even though Saori has known me for years, I can't think of anything else to say to her. I turn away, and start for the room, dragging my hand along the walls.

This hallway has many memories, many stories. So many children have passed through here, each of them leaving a mark, a memory. I don't know all the stories; I knew only a few of the others here. Some of them have moved on, left without looking back, and some keep coming back. Some come back as volunteers or even doctors, but it seems to me that most that come back are here for more grim reasons. I seem to remember only children who have left, none who linger here like I do. One way or another, I thought I'd have left these halls.

I never thought I'd willingly come back here, not after I've nearly finished treatment. Sure, I still have to come back every once in a while for tests, but it's not really _coming back_. This part of my life is drawing to a close, and in a year or so I'll be out of here for good.

Room 510. I knock, and then open the door. Echizen is actually in the bed this time, curled up under a blanket. It must be his-- all the hospital blankets are bland pastel shades, not anything like that deep shade of blue.

Echizen blinks sleepily at me, and then smiles. "Hi," he says. He must be happy to be out of isolation to give me more than a smirk. Echizen yawns and gives a little stretch. I wait for him to gesture to the seat by his bed, and then sit down.

"Hello, Echizen," I murmur, settling into the chair. This room has a lot more color than the old isolation room, and has more of Echizen's own things, too. "You look like you've been keeping busy," I comment, looking at the stacks of videos and school books. "Have you been doing your homework?"

Echizen smirks at that, and shakes the hair from his eyes. "No, I've been sleeping." He sits up in his bed, and leans on one arm. He fixes me with a look, gazing at me from an angle.

This makes me smile-- what a brat, acting like this when I've come to visit him. I don't say anything else, preferring to wait for him to start the conversation.

"They wouldn't let me out yesterday. I asked, but they said no, even though they moved me out'a isolation," his voice is low, and rough. I really must have woken him up. "Som'thin' about ANC being better."

"Oh, that's what they count to measure how good your immune system is holding up. It's good that it's higher—it means germs can't get at you so easily."

Echizen gives me a little frown, and tilts his head. I wonder if he understands what I'm saying, or if he's thinking about what it means. "So, I'm almost better," he ventures, eager to assume that he's on the road to speedy recovery.

"It doesn't mean you can go outside, though, and you're definitely not ready to go back to school. The doctors probably want to limit your contact with other people to reduce the risk of infection complicating the chemo." I don't know why I'm telling him this. Why I'm trying to crush his hopes.

Being optimistic is good, isn't it? But then maybe this kid-- this tennis rookie-- would try and do too much if he's getting better. It's hard to tell-- I can't read those sharp eyes.

"Did you want to talk to me?" Echizen's tone is flat, bored. He tilts his head to look at me from another angle, frowning all the while.

"Ah," I nod. "But this is hardly the place to talk," I say cheerily. "Why don't we ask the doctors for a pass to the roof?" I lean forward, meeting his glare. "What do you think?"

Echizen grins at me like a smug cat that got away with a fish. "I already have a pass; I got it when I asked to go out yesterday. All I need is somebody to go up with." He looks more pleased than ever. "I thought I'd have to wait all day for my cousin to get here."

"I thought your dad was here?" I make the statement a question. "Saori tells me he's here quite a bit."

Echizen gives a tight-lipped frown. "He went home last night. I told him to stay gone for a day or two." Echizen turns around to get the hat from the nightstand, and pulls himself to the front of the bed, eager to be on his feet and go.

"I'll get a nurse to get you a wheelchair," I say mildly, pushing myself out of the chair.

"Eh, I don't need one of _those _things," Echizen protests. He looks put off, to say the least. Echizen pulls his legs up, and dangles them over the edge of the bed. He doesn't, however, climb down.

I stick my head out the door to ask a nurse for a wheelchair, and a few minutes later a volunteer helps me lift Echizen into it. The kid doesn't say anything, just frowns a little. Once we're out of the room, and walking down the hall, I feel like I'm in a daydream, walking through a shadowy memory.

"Yukimura," Echizen says, his voice calling me out of my memories. "We're at the top floor now."

I didn't realize I'd stopped moving. "Ah, yes, of course," I say, and motion for the nearby janitor to come over and open the door.

I give a little bow to the old woman with a broom, and show her Echizen's pass from Dr. Kobayashi. She sucks on her tooth, reads the paper slowly, like she's reading it over many times. But maybe her eyesight is bad. She nods a little, gives Echizen a look, but doesn't say anything. She takes a ring of keys from her pocket, makes a noise deep in her throat as she goes through them. Finally, she selects a key, and puts it in the lock with slow, fumbling motions. The door is opened.

"Have a nice trip," she says, her voice is gravely, but not unkind.

I bow to her again, and say, "thank you." From past experience, I know she'll be waiting for us by this door. We can't stay out for too long.

I blink in the morning light, but my eyes will adjust. I look admiringly at the sky stretching out on three sides. Although this is only a small section of the hospital's roof, it's much bigger than any of the rooms, and seems to feel bigger than that. "Nice view, huh?" I roll the wheelchair just in front of the railing.

Echizen closes his eyes, apparently enjoying the feel of the air. "Why do they let people up here?"

I pause to reflect, and then answer, "it's a good place to relax, don't you think? We can talk up here with no one around to bother us." I watch a bird fly near another building and then disappear.

"What did you want to talk about, anyways?" Echizen draws the question out slowly, like he'd really rather not be talking at all, but still wants to know the reason to my appearance.

"I thought you might have a few questions." My voice is soft and low, more serious than I remember it being. I look into the distance, examining the many buildings and roads sprawled out below us.

"Why would I ask _you _anything?"

"We have the same disease, after all…I've been through all the things you have. I know what's happening to you."

Echizen gives me a long look, thinking about what I said. He turns away, and is quiet. I follow his gaze to the distant buildings partially obscured by the smog. The wind blows at Echizen's nightgown-- his own clothes, I note. Someone must have brought them for him. At last, Echizen speaks, "Is this really going to take years to get through?" His eyes glint gold in the soft morning light.

"Yes, it will. You won't be admitted-- staying here in the hospital-- the whole time, though. You should be released after a month or so, when you finish induction. That's what you're in right now-- the first stage of treatment for ALL, what Dr. Kobayashi calls the 'frontal attack.'" I'm looking at Echizen as I speak, wondering how long it is before he looks away. "The doctors pump you full of strong medicines to knock out as many of the leukemic cells they can. After one month of chemotherapy, they check to see how you've responded to the chemo."

"Another bone marrow?" Echizen still holds my gaze, listening intently. I wonder, is this the first time anyone's explained this to him? Probably not-- the doctors give all the new patients the same speech, they have probably been explaining everything all along-- he probably wasn't listening. Wasn't ready to listen.

"Yes, another diagnostic bone marrow." I say, smiling a little.

Echizen makes a face. "You sound like a doctor," his tone is curious mixture of accusation and awe.

I laugh. "This is my life. Has been for the past few years-- you'll learn it too, you know." I smile at Echizen's scoff. "You don't think you'll learn about it?"

"I don't want to." Echizen's answer is flat, final. He shivers a little, although it is warm up here. "What would happen if the chemo doesn't work?"

"Nothing good happens if there are still cancerous cells hanging around. They'd probably put you on a lot stronger medicine, though I can't say for sure what they'd do."

Echizen snorts. "Like that would change anything." He tugs his hat down and tilts his head to the sky. "All the medicine seems to do is make me feel even worse off than when I first came here."

"It works," I say softly. "The medicine works. They're giving you some very strong medicines to kill the cancerous cells-- it just makes you feel sick, too."

Echizen sighs unhappily, "The nurses say that, too. I say it _still _sucks."

I laugh. "Yes, chemo does suck. It's tough. It makes you throw up so much you lose a lot of weight. Some of the medicines make your blood pressure drop, or rise. They make you get sick easy, and make you feel tired. Your hair will also fall out."

Echizen looks at me, squinting as though in thought. "Dr. Kobayashi said that doesn't happen to everybody."

I chuckle. "Everyone I've seen in this place loses their hair at some point." I touch my own hair, remembering how long it took to grow back out. "When it starts to come out, shave it. It's a real mess otherwise."

Echizen looks at me with renewed interest. "But you have hair," he says slowly.

I smile. "My hair grew back...it's a lot more fine than it was, though, and more wavy." I look Echizen in the eyes, and then look at his hat. "When my hair fell out, I got a wig...it was pretty close to my usual hair color."

Echizen fidgets in the wheelchair, looking like he wants to stand up. "Hair doesn't matter." He says finally. "I can play tennis whether I have hair or not."

"You're probably not going to be able to play at the level you're used to...extended stays in the hospital sap your strength and slow you down." I say matter of factly. "It'll take a lot of work and a lot of time. Don't push yourself, and don't expect to play as though nothing happened." I look into those brown eyes again. "This is your life for the next few years."

Echizen turns to look at me, now. "But I will be able to play tennis when I get out?" He sits up, this question burning brightly in his eyes.

I consider the question, and shake my head a little. "When you're an outpatient? You'll be able to exercise, yes. So you can play tennis, but probably not what you're used to. I doubt you'll feel able to play any long matches between bouts of chemotherapy. I did know of one kid who played sports throughout chemotherapy, and even went to school pretty soon.

"But you know you won't be completely out of the hospital-- you'll be going in and out during the next few stages, checking in and out for a few months. You probably will be kept out of school for a while; I didn't go back until after three months of chemo."

Echizen makes a face. "Three months? How'd you practice?"

I laugh at the question. I wonder if he always thinks of tennis before everything else. "I did some stretches, learned some yoga..." I smile at Echizen's expression. "And on my good days I'd go and practice with a few members of the team," I add, feeling like I should give him some good news, so I don't add that this happened rarely. "But remember, I was diagnosed in elementary school-- so the tennis club didn't really have a strict schedule. All the kids came in when they felt like it."

I look over the roof, looking down at the sidewalks bellow.

"Even when I was back in school, I couldn't practice all the time. Some days I was just too tired, or I had a bad reaction to some medicine. Just before I went into isolation for the full body radiation, I only went to school during lunchtime, and then after I got the transplant. I did that again for the first six months I was in remission. Even in the final stage of treatment I still have a year or so to go before I'm declared 'cured'"

"You play pretty well, though, right? You're captain of the Rikkaidai tennis team, so you'd have to be pretty good."

I chuckle at the thought. 'Pretty good' indeed. What a rookie. "I had to work extra hard in tennis. I worked harder and longer than anyone for a while, at least until I built my strength back up. My team was willing to work with me, so after I got started, there was no stopping me."

Echizen looks at me again, his eyes flashing in the light. I wonder does he look at me and see a future he can aspire to, or a nightmare of a past he has to live.

Regardless, he's still got a ways to go.

I look back to the door, and remember the janitor standing there. "We ought to get going," I say quietly, my mind already on other things.

Echizen looks after me for a split second, gold eyes on mine. I can't see his face...he's looking ahead, not back.

What a cute little brat

* * *

…tbc…

Thoughts?


	13. Part Thirteen: Thinking about the future

**Title:** Double Fault (a "Prince of Tennis" fanfic)  
**Warnings:** Mature themes.

**Author: **(: attackfish, LJ: bowlofkaki)

**Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis does not belong to me. I am not making any money off of this. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary: **Ryoma's stuck in the hospital. As he experiences the trials of chemotherapy, he must learn to live with his disease. How will he and his family-- and his friends on the tennis team-- cope? First person present, switching PoV.

* * *

_(Echizen Pov)_

"Ryoma!" One of the daytime nurses cheerfully rattles a cart into my room. I don't remember this one's name-- just that she's extremely, overwhelmingly cheerful. "You must be feeling good today!"

I look over at her now, screwing up my face. "Huh?"

The nurse rattles the cart closer to my bed, and stops just next to me. "You went outside, silly!" She beams at me, like she's talking about something really great. "You have to be feeling good to go out and do that."

"Who told you about that?"

The nurse laughs, and hands me the little plastic cup with two different pills. "Everyone knows about that-- Yukimura took you up there, right?"

I stare at her. That doesn't explain anything.

The nurse grins even wider, and presses the cup of water into my hand. "There's not much else to talk about today, silly." She watches, waiting for me to swallow the pills. When I don't, she says, "they're just antibiotics, don't worry."

I take the pills with a straight face, though I don't want them at all. I recognize this white one. It tastes terrible. I swallow the pills, and set the cup down. I stay still for the nurse to take my temperature, and swab the port on my chest to take a tiny bit of blood.

"Just a little checkup," she says, though I'm used to this by now. She smiles a little before she sticks me, like I need to be reassured. I frown at her, but she's already looking away. She finishes quick, but still lingers.

...she even makes noise while moving around the room. I wonder if she's ever quiet.

"Aren't you done?" I say, when she's looking at my charts. "They told me I don't have chemo today..."

The nurse looks up, a surprised expression on her smiling face. "Oh, no chemo. I'm just going to start an IV...it says here you're to get extra fluids today and tomorrow to prepare for tomorrow's treatment." She rustles back over to my bed, supplies in hand.

I look at the pitcher of water on my nightstand with sudden realization. "That's why they gave me extra tea today..." I've barely drunken any of it.

The nurse laughs again, and smiles all the brighter. "Be sure to drink lots, Ryoma. It's important that you do what the doctors tell you-- don't you remember them telling you about it?"

I shake my head, and watch as she slides the IV needle into the bump on my chest. "They didn't say I need to drink lots."

"Yes they did; it says so on the paper there." She points her chin a little to my charts.

I frown. "That doesn't mean they actually _did_-- they just _said_ they did. There's a difference."

"They did so tell you, Ryoma, you just weren't listening!" she scolds cheerfully. Her voice is annoying. She doesn't look at me while she finishes with the IV. "Now, let's here about what Yukimura and you talked about up on the roof," she says, her eyes fixing on mine.

She expects me to answer her? I smirk a little, "nothing."

She tilts her head back and makes a disappointed noise. "You two had to have talked about something," she looks back at me. "You two have a lot in common. Did he tell you about that?"

"...I just looked off the roof."

"Right, right." The nurse straightens her uniform and goes back to rattling her cart. "You won't tell me if you don't want to, so I guess I'll just ask _Yukimura_ later." Her eyes twinkle with amusement. "Be good and drink lots now-- it's for your own good, after all"

The nurse walks out with her rattling cart and rustling clothes, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

It was good to get out of my room, even if it was only for a little while, or only on top of the hospital. I liked the feel of the air outside, and how warm-- hot really-- it is this summer. I look over to my window to see the blue sky. The sky looks a lot better when you're actually looking up at it.

I close my eyes to think about what Yukimura told me...it's a lot to swallow, and I don't think I understood everything he told me. There's a lot about I think about the things that I've learned in the two weeks I've been here.

Chemotherapy...I used to only knew the very basics-- that people with cancer got chemotherapy, though I don't think I knew exactly what it was. I guess I thought chemotherapy was where you got a special kind of x-ray-- but now I know that that's really "radiation." Funny how I got those two mixed up. I don't get radiation, and I hope I won't have to.

Now, I know that chemotherapy is the name for the whole treatment I get, from the medicines I swallow, to the IVs I get sometimes. They give me some new pills every day, some kinds only every few days. I don't understand the schedule they have me on, with its dozens of different pills and IVs.

That's another thing I've been learning about. I didn't used to know that IVs were more than a needle in a wrist. They can go anywhere, like in your leg if your arm won't work, or even in through a port, like mine. IVs have tubes connected to a bag. The bag is filled with all sorts of things, like medicines or even blood. Some of the chemo meds I take are given to me through an IV through my port.

The hurried trip over here seems like a hazy dream. It was only two weeks ago that I came here, but it's stretched on so long that it feels like much longer.

Thinking about the time _before_ is strange, since everything is so different now. There's a lot I still don't know, but then I knew even less about hospitals. I had no reason to know anything about cancer. I wish it was _still_ like that. I used to be like everyone else, Japanese or American, in that area. I thought cancer was something old people got. I thought it was all tumors, not blood diseases.

I knew only what everyone knows-- cancer is a disease, a killer.

I think of survivor stories on TV, and of walkathons full of women with t-shirts of bald people. I never thought I'd be one of the people they hold those kinds of events for. One of the _bald_ people.

Everyone knows that people with cancer are bald, so I guess I knew that, too. Now I know that it's the chemo that makes them look that way, not the cancer...it's a side affect of the medicine after all.

I put my hat on, thinking. So I'll lose my hair. So what? It'll come back-- Yukimura's did. But still, it will be strange not having any hair-- everyone will look at me. I don't think I'll like that. I wonder, does it come out in clumps, or all at once? Or will it happen so slow I won't even notice it's going, like Karupin's hair does when he sheds? An uneasy feeling takes root in my stomach, and I wonder if I'll be sick.

I can't wait until I can go home-- as soon as I get out of the hospital (two or three more weeks?) I'm going straight to the courts. Some people still play sports throughout treatment, right? I'll do that. No way I'm going to let these doctors make me sit back and do nothing for five years.

...five years...it's a long time. I'll be seventeen, a senior in high school. I've been _here_ two week...so I should be leaving here in another two or three? I groan-- I'll miss the Rikkai game. Two more weeks of painful procedures and long boring days seems unbearable.

Before now, I never really thought about the future so much, about what I'd be doing even a year from now, or even two weeks from now. For me it's always been day-to-day routine. I go to sleep, wake up and go to school and play tennis.

That's what my life has always been. What I thought it'd always be.

I could be dead next year. The thought hits me with a jolt. I didn't mean to think it, but there it is. Now my head is buzzing with dozens of questions.

What happens when people die? What happens to other kids here who died? What happens to the things they used to do, or their ideas and dreams? Where do they go? Where will _I_ go?

I want answers, but I can't think of where to find them. I know my mother's Christian, and that she'd tell me about heaven and God. But I don't see any answers in any of that.

My dad...he doesn't seem to believe in anything, but I guess he might believe in Buddhist re-birth or Shinto or something. Maybe I'll ask him about it... I've only ever seen him chant, ring bells and stuff like that, more so now that he's looking over the temple behind our house.

I never really did anything like that. All I ever do is celebrating the New Year, and a few other holidays my dad recognizes. I don't remember having ever been to church, not like the ones my mother sometimes went to. I don't think I want to start going to church all the sudden-- that would just be weird. I don't know if I believe in those ideas strong enough to go through all that trouble.

...but maybe I'll write my wish at one of the temples near my house. A wish to the Japanese gods...

I open my eyes with a start-- what am I thinking about? Going to temples? Asking my dad about _religion?_ Before now, I never thought of myself as _Japanese..._My life is changing around me faster than I can think.

I stare out the window and think for a minute about quitting all of this. I'd go home and not have to take all these medicines that make me sick. I could go outside whenever I feel like it, and eat foods without throwing it up. I'd just walk past all the nurses and doctors and get out. I could get my normal life back. I look away from the window.

No, I can barely muster the strength to move around, much less walk all the way to the bus stop from here. I give a huge sigh in disgust. I can't do _anything_ interesting around here.

I get the feeling the doctors just want to keep me cooped up. I wonder if that's what the medicine is really for. Maybe it doesn't really do _anything_, maybe they have it all wrong and I really just need to be out exercising.

Maybe that's what I'll do.

I'll get out of this room and walk around a little. I'll feel a lot better afterwards, I bet. Stupid nurses and doctors can't keep me in here forever.

I boost myself out of my bed and onto the floor. My legs feel like they do after a hard game-- achy and _sore_. I sway on my feet a minute until I lean onto my IV stand. I push it in front of me like some strange sort of cane. I don't like the idea, but it's not like I can leave it behind.

I grin, anyways, a surge of excitement hitting me. I'm doing something because _I_ want to. I'm actually getting out of bed, getting out of this room. My head is full of places I want to go, things I want to do, but I push them away, and focus on what's actually possible.

I push through the door, ready to face the world.

* * *

_(Kawamura PoV)_

While walking to the tennis courts after school is over, I can hear the clusters of students' gossip.

"Did you hear?"

"Yeah, he's in my homeroom!"

"He's in the _hospital?_"

"I heard it's _cancer_--"

It's not just people on the tennis team who are talking-- it seems that word of Echizen's hospitalization have spread all over the school. I look at the groups of chattering girls and boys and wonder if they understand exactly what it means for Echizen Ryoma to be-- what? Sick? Stuck in the hospital?

I walk a little faster, but there are gossiping groups loitering everywhere. I wonder if the teachers asked them not to gossip. That might be why they are all outside in this heat…

"His parents must be crying,"

"Who, that little kid on the tennis team?"

"That's terrible!"

When I finally get to the tennis courts, I see the freshmen trio huddles together off to the side. The freshmen trio huddle together on the courts. Horio has his finger to his chin, and he bites tentatively on the nail while Katsuo and Kachiro glare daggers at the oblivious boy. "I wonder why everybody knows that Echizen has cancer...Our teacher only said that he was in the hospital..."

"Because you have a big mouth!" Kachiro frowns sternly, clenching his hands into fists. Beside him, Katsuo nods empathetically.

I sigh, and think that Echizen isn't going to like being the subject of so many rumors. I don't think the other regulars will sit and listen to all these rumors passively, either.

I try and think of something else-- anything else-- once I'm in the locker rooms, but it's no use. I look at my bag, and think of Echizen-- only two weeks ago he was right here with us.

"Hello, Taka," a smooth voice interrupts my thoughts. "It's hot out there, isn't it?" Fuji walks past me to his locker.

I stare at Fuji's back for a moment before looking back to my bag. "Fuji, are you going to visit Echizen today? I brought some videos and magazines, but my dad wants me to go straight home today." I look across the long row of lockers to see him gazing back at me. I find my hand rubbing the back of my neck self-consciously.

"Ah, I see." Fuji gives me an easy smile. "I'll take them for you," he says and shrugs his bag over his shoulder.

"Sorry, Fuji," I say, and hand him the bag.

"Let's head out, shall we?" Fuji speaks softly, but his eyes are sharp.

"Ah," I mumble, and fall in place behind him.

On the courts, a few second years are practicing, but mostly everyone is clumped together, much like the rest of the student body. I bet they're talking about Echizen. I wonder how they all found out.

"Ah, Taka!" Oishi motions for me to come over. He and several of the other regulars are gathered there, apparently talking. "The other day didn't go over so well, did it? We ought to come in smaller groups...three people at a time would probably be best..."

"Why don't we take turns visiting?" My voice slips out before I realize...But wouldn't it be hard not to visit when you know everyone else is visiting? Maybe it's not such a good idea...

"Oh, that's a good idea!" Oishi exclaims, looking surprised. "We could include it as part of our training! Take the train there, run back! I'll write up a schedule for everyone..." Oishi looks genuinely pleased.

"You think so?"

"Yeah, it's good!" Eiji swings his arm over Oishi's shoulder. "Great job, Taka!" he sings out, grinning from ear to ear.

"Co-captain Oishi," Fuji murmurs. Strangely enough, he's not looking at our co-captain; instead, he's looking at the groups of chattering first years. "Shouldn't you do something about all this gossip? No one is focusing on our practice for the Rikkai game..." Fuji's voice is low, flat.

I look at Fuji with surprise. Isn't he usually the type to watch trouble brew, rather than put a stop to it?

"Right!" Oishi blinks rapidly, likely as thrown off by the prodigy's soft rebuke as I was. "Everyone! Run twenty laps," he bellows. "We've got an important game coming up. This is not the time for idle chatter!"

The court erupts into motion as all the students begin to run. There isn't a single person who's not running. I'm keeping pace with all the other regulars, thinking.

Aren't we just as bad as the others, talking about Echizen behind his back? It's not like we were talking about _him,_ though-- just about visiting him. This is such a strange situation; I can't keep myself from thinking about it over and over again.

"The kid looked pretty good, though, right?" Eiji blurts out between breaths. "I mean, he still has his hair-- even if he was pretty pale..." The acrobatic player's face is tight, drawn. He looks worried.

I look to Eiji, surprised. So he was thinking about Echizen, too? But then again, I suppose it's natural for us all to be thinking of our freshman player.

"He looks good, yeah," Oishi answers, though his expression makes me think he doesn't believe the words himself. He's looking at Eiji, and I wonder if he's only trying to comfort his double's partner.

"I dunno...seeing Echizen in that place...wasn't it scary? It was pretty scary!" Momoshiro looks worried, too. "It's not right for him to be stuck in that kind of place..."

Seeing worry and anxiety in my teammates only increases my unease. I thought that together we might be able to overcome this-- support Echizen, and help his defeat this disease-- but with everyone like this, how can we? This overwhelming fear and anxiety how are we to overcome it so we can stand by our friend? Isn't that what we're supposed to be concerned about?

"I thought the hospital looked good," Fuji surprises me, coming up from behind. "They seem to take good care of him."

"But still, I can't imagine him staying there for so long!" Momoshiro rubs at his nose. "Don't they say to stay out of hospitals if you're sick? Too many germs, right?"

"Hey, Inui, the kid's gonna get better though, right? He can come back and help us conquer Rikkai!" Eiji runs backwards now to face Inui, an anxious expression overcoming his usually cheerful face.

Inui is silent for a moment before answering. I think everyone is holding their breath. "The probability of Echizen's recovery...the statistics are incomplete."

I give a sigh, and Eiji groans loudly.

"The hospital's website states that 8.3 of its pediatric patients have any type of leukemia...I searched for survival rates, but I have found many different statistics. It seems that there are different statistics for different kinds of leukemia. The percentage of full remission after five years is 81 for all leukemias, but only 59 for non lymphatic leukemia..." Inui rambles on; though I'm sure all of us stopped listening after the first statistic.

All the talk about his illness just makes it seem like he's going to die. I can't stand to think about that-- it's so shocking that I really can't get past it. I'm ashamed at my own thoughts-- I need to be strong for my friend. Isn't it a thousand times more difficult for him? To think that you could die-- I couldn't stand such a thing.

"What?" Eiji's voice is stricken; he actually stops running for a moment, and I almost run into him. "_Survival_ rate? So there's a chance he-- he could-- could--?"

"I was unable to determine what kind of leukemia Echizen has, and without knowing which type he has it is very difficult to research the probability of long term remission..." Inui admits wearily.

"Wait, wait, don't you mean cure? 'Remission' isn't right, is it?" Eiji grabs at Inui's shoulder, but Inui runs past him.

"There is no "cure" for any cancer...but chemotherapy can lead to long term remission-- the absence of disease in patients with chronic illnesses. The chance of the cancer coming back after it's been in remission for five years is relatively low..."

"Eh, you mean there isn't a cure?" Momoshiro stops running, too. "But, but! That means he could-- _not_ recover?" The second year sounds just as shocked as Eiji.

"What does _that_ mean?" Kaido finally speaks. "If he doesn't recover?" His voice is quiet, but demands an answer.

I wonder briefly what it would mean for Echizen to be unable to recover-- none of us are saying it. Doesn't it mean he'd die?

"I think it would be best to ask Echizen's doctors these sorts of questions," Fuji surprises me with the answer. "After all, Echizen's family entrusts their son's health to them, in the end."

"Besides," I add, "statistics are all well and good, but those were just the averages, right? Echizen's case is different-- he'll be one of the kids who make it." I want my words to be hopeful, to boost everyone's confidence, but somehow I feel like I'm only making everyone more anxious.

"We all can support Echizen," our co-captain assures us. His conviction is heartening. "What we need to do right now is to concentrate on the competition right in front of us. Echizen will be with us soon!"

Around him, we all give a little cheer. It's times like this I'm glad we at least have a substitute captain.

"Now all we need to do is organize the visitation schedule!" Oishi adds, nearly tripping half the team up.

Eiji's mouth drops open, and I grin a little. Eiji looks half horrified, and half delighted at the idea.

Seigaku is in for some big changes, I think.

* * *

..tbc…

The link to the stats Inui was rambling about is on my bio. :) I got the information from there.

Thoughts?


	14. Part Fourteen: Fuji visits

**Title:** Double Fault (a "Prince of Tennis" fanfic)  
**Warnings:** Mature themes.

**Author: **(: attackfish, LJ: bowlofkaki)

**Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis does not belong to me. I am not making any money off of this. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary: **Ryoma's stuck in the hospital. As he experiences the trials of chemotherapy, he must learn to live with his disease. How will he and his family-- and his friends on the tennis team-- cope? First person present, switching PoV.

* * *

_(Echizen PoV)_

Once I'm out in the hall, it's easy to keep walking. I haven't gotten a chance to get up and stretch the whole time I've been here, so even though my body aches, it's good to be up and moving around.

The halls are empty, but it's not quiet-- the hum of the machines and the sound of people talking just out of sight keeps it from being quiet.

I pull my IV along behind me, careful not to tug the plastic tubing going into my chest. What a bother.

_Rattle, bump, rattle_ the sound of a cart being pushed sounds behind me, and I see a volunteer pushing a cart. It's too late to get out of sight-- there's nowhere to really hide anyways-- so I just nod to the volunteer and hope she doesn't tell me to go back to my room and rest. She must not work here too often because she just smiles at me and keeps on walking. I sigh with relief, and go a little farther.

"--the poor dear. She's been in the hospital so much this summer!" A middle-aged lady with a plump face is talking to another woman with a long face. They each have a paper bag from the gift shop in the hospital. I guess they must be visiting. "It's just her time, you know. Some people aren't meant to live long--"

"Eiko!" The woman with a long face pulls at the other's sleeve, looking sharply in my direction.  
I step back a little, surprised. They're looking at _me_. I pull my hat down and close my eyes. I try to act like I didn't hear the women's conversation, and keep walking. I feel their eyes on me as I walk-- too slowly-- down the hall. Finally, I hear the door open and they look away.

"Oh, little Mai looks so thin! Oh, Aiko, doesn't she eat?" I hear the woman's shrill voice. What an irritating visitor.

I've barely been here more than a week and I'm already sick of it. I'd rather be back home, or even going to school. I really want to get out of this place-- or at least off this ward. I don't want to think about medicine, or annoying visitors. I don't want to think about _anything_, but the thoughts come anyways.

_Why_ did _I_ have to get this disease? There are hundreds-- thousands-- of kids in Japan, and more in America, too. So why do _I_ have cancer? I'm supposed to play tennis. Practice hard and beat everybody I play against-- not be stuck in a hospital attached to a stupid IV. This sucks.

I lean against the wall, glowering. I want to sit down, but I don't want to go back to my room. I turn around, looking back the way I came. The hall stretches behind me. It looks longer than it did while I was walking down it.

A few minutes later I lean away from the wall. I don't want to go back to my room with nothing to do. I haven't really been walking far-- I can go a little farther.

There's no one in front of me, no one behind me. I haven't seen any other people out here, except that volunteer. I guess a few of the nurses are going in and out of rooms, but I haven't seen any _other_ people here. I shrug a little; it doesn't matter. Less people I see here, the less people I have to talk to.

It'd be awful if I met somebody I know here. I don't want to deal with that, don't want to talk to anybody. I don't even think I really want to have anymore visitors. But I bet everybody will keep on coming anyways.

At the end of the hall, I find a room with a plaque next to the number. "12A Recreation Room." This looks interesting. I put my hand on the door, ready to see what kinds of things are in there, but the sound of a door opening from behind stops me.

"Oh, Ryoma!" It's Dr. Kobayashi. "You must be feeling well! That's good, that's good…" The doctor says approvingly. The doctor looks at me from over his clipboard. "It's great you're feeling up to it. Exercise is great; just don't overdo it."

I stare at the doctor incredulously. "What?" He doesn't _care_ that I'm out of my room?

Dr. Kobayashi laughs. "You're not being locked up; this is a hospital, not a prison. You're welcome to get up and walk around if you feel up to it. In fact, I recommend that my patients get a little exercise." The doctor makes to turn down the hall. "Be sure to rest when you're tired." And just like that, he walks away.

What a strange doctor.

I close my eyes, and smile a little. "_Not_ a prison, huh?" Right.

I push the door open, and try to pull the IV stand behind me, but it gets stuck on the wall. "Come _on_," I mutter, pulling at the stupid thing.

"You better not pull it so hard!" I look up to see a kid grinning at me. "I got the door," he says, and pulls it all the way open.

I pull the IV stand away from the wall and drag it behind me. "Thanks," I say, and look around. There's not a lot in here—mostly toys and a big table with craft supplies lined up on it. There's also a bunch of chairs lining the walls, a toy chest and an indoor basketball hoop with a net underneath. I sigh. Somehow I don't think I'll come here that often.

"Hi," the kid grins at me some more. "You new?" At my nod, he continues. "This is the rec room! Usually there are more people here, but today I'm the only one!"

"Is that right." I go over to one of the chairs along the wall and sit down carefully so I don't tug on the IV tube.

"I'm Kosuke! I'm in third grade, and my favorite food is curry rice!" Kosuke grins even bigger than before, and gives a little bow. "Nice to meet you!" He adds enthusiastically.

I frown a little-- this kid is louder than Momo. "Echizen Ryoma. Seigaku Middle School, First Year."

"Oh, so you _are_ Japanese! I thought you were half!" Kosuke sighs, and sits next to me. "How boring."

"What does it matter?" I say, and look up at the ceiling. "Being foreign doesn't make somebody more interesting."

"So you're foreign!" Kosuke grins at me again. "You've got light eyes," he says solemnly, like that explains everything. "Are you from America? Do you speak English?"

I look at this little kid. Why am I even having this conversation? "You're a little noisy, you know."

"Aah, you're really boring!" Kosuke flops on the floor, and gives a long sigh. "Hey, how about I show you around? There's lots of cool toys!" The kid leaps up, and dashes for the toy box. "But we can't take any of them out with us-- they're for everybody." He rummages around, burying his arms in the chest. "There's a cool remote control car--" Kosuke bends down, and his hair slides.

I blink. It's not his hair…is it a wig? I guess some people wear them…I blink again; Kosuke is still talking.

"And there's also a checker board. I'm good at checkers!" The kid gives another one of his grins, beaming at me like I should be happy, too.

I don't even like board games. Why am I even still here? "Right. Thanks, but I think I'll go back now--"

"You don't wanna play a game?" Kosuke looks unhappy-- he's not even smiling anymore. "If you go without playing, I'll tell Granny you were mean!" Kosuke scolds, but he looks more upset than mad.

"Granny?" My lips curve down.

"Her!" Kosuke points to an old woman sleeping in a chair on the other side of the room. I didn't even notice there was anyone in this room. "She'll scold you if you're bad!"

"Right." I sit down at the craft table, telling myself it's because I'm tired rather than because I might actually want to play a stupid board game with an eight year old.

"Hey, are you coming to group?" Kosuke pulls the game off the shelf and drops it onto the table. He starts setting up the pieces without asking if I _want_ to play. "It's tomorrow afternoon. Lots of people come!"

"What group is it? Checkers tournament?" I lean on one hand, eying the red and black board.

"No, stupid! It's group therapy for kids with cancer. Lots of kids from Tokyo-- and some from other places, too-- come and we all talk. There's plenty of people who come." Kosuke grins broadly.

"I don't think I'll go."

"What? Why not?" Kosuke actually sounds surprised, as if he can't think of anything better we could do. "There's candy, and we get to draw pictures. It's fun!" He continues. He's intent on telling me how much fun 'group therapy' actually is.

"I just don't want to."

Kosuke makes a sour face. "It's not just little kids, you know-- I go, and even some kids older than me!"

I don't answer, and the kid sighs.

The silence stretches between us, and I wish there was some sort of noise in here...there's no hum of medical equipment, and there isn't even a clock in here. I stare at the ceiling, examining the florescent lights.

I don't like the silence, and I don't want to play a game. The only game I want to play is outside.

"Ah. I just remembered." I put my arms behind my head and stand up slowly. "I have something to do." I step away from the table, feeling Kosuke's eyes on me.

"Not even one game?" he says softly.

I don't want to turn around and see him watching me, but I can't help it. I look down at the checkerboard and the kid sitting in front of it.

I stand and he sits while a few moments pass us by. Silence.

This 'rec room' is a dull place without other kids in it. I sigh. "When we're both out of here," I say, lifting my hat up a little, "I'll teach you to play tennis." I sit down. "But you have to teach me to play checkers first."

Kosuke's face lights up-- he's grinning so hard I think his face must hurt.

I frown, wondering what I've just gotten myself into.

* * *

_(Fuji PoV)_

The hospital doesn't seem as big as it did the first time I came. Like a magical house, it seems to change appearance each time I come to visit. I chuckle at the thought. But no, I've always thought first impressions were like that, making even small places look like a gigantic cave. Things seem much farther apart, and even the walls seem taller, though I suppose that's probably due to my height.

I watch a volunteer bending gently to water a plant-- she resembles a bowed flower herself with the pink apron adorning her. I gaze around and think that the hospital has a refreshing outlook-- there are plenty of windows to let the warm, golden light in, varying greens of so many plants and _pink_ chairs. The color brightens everything up, despite being artificial.

It doesn't hurt that the same pink marks the volunteer so well...it's almost like they _want_ the volunteer to be marked for target practice.

I smile to myself, and start up the stairs rather than take the elevator. I want plenty of time to collect my thoughts; there's much to think of, especially with everything that's been happening recently. The whole team seems preoccupied with Echizen's illness. As things are, we may not be able to concentrate on the upcoming match.

While walking up the stairs I think of tennis, but as soon as I get to the pediatric ward, I wonder if tennis is what I should be thinking of right now. The match against Rikkai is important, but I've never put so much value on winning before-- it's more important to feel the thrill of raising your opponent up, finding a challenge in any game. It's more important to think of our classmate anyways. Besides, knowing Echizen, he's sure to raise our spirits before the match...

I go straight to the nurse's desk to sign in, but it seems the woman from before has stepped out. Instead, a volunteer gingerly pushes a clipboard to me. "Visitor, please write your name and the room number of the patient you are seeing," she taps a pen with the tips of her fingers, barely touching it at all, "here."

I take the pen and write my name. "Do I write 'isolation room B2,' or just 'B2?'" I voice my question, more thinking aloud than really waiting for an answer. "I suppose 'B2' would be best...it's a very small box."

"Isolation room B2?" The volunteer gives me a sharp look and then turns to her computer. She clicks and types a few things, sparing me a suspicious glance every other second or so. The woman seems to doubt my right to be here. Curious. Isn't her job only to have the visitors sign in?

Finally, she looks to me and speaks in a severe tone. "We don't have anyone in there." Her smile vanishes, and she fixes me with a frown. "What exactly are you trying to do?"

I flick my eyes to the woman. "Are you certain there's no one in that room?" I believe this volunteer has very small, squinty eyes. "My friends and I just visited Echizen Ryoma there the day before yesterday."

"Well, maybe he checked out." The woman persists; eying me like a snake would its prey.

I take a 'visitor' sticker from the basket on the desk, and place it on my shirt. I'm starting to get frustrated with this stubborn person-- she is intent on interrogating me beyond her job. I fix her with an icy glare, but before I can say anything in reply, I hear a familiar voice.

"Oh." I turn around to see Echizen standing behind me, stopped in the middle of the hall as though he just noticed me standing here. "Fuji? ...what do you want?" He sips from a bottle of Fanta. I see that it's grape flavor.

I feel my lip twitch. "I'm trying to visit _you,_ but it seems that I can't do that. You seem to have left the computer system." I quirk my eyebrows at the first-year.

"Oh, that." Echizen looks at me in his usual confronting way.

"What do you mean, 'oh, that,'" I chuckle. "You check out?"

"No. Changed rooms. Back in 510 now." I swear there's a spark of mischief in those brown-gold eyes. He stands stock still, unmoving as an abandoned statue in a garden. It strikes me that the boy standing in front of me is more lively than a statue could ever be, but I can't shake the sensation.

"Ah, I see," and I write '510' in the blank. "Thank you," I say to the volunteer, and give her a slight bow.

"That woman thought I was trying to sneak around the hospital," I say dramatically, fully aware that the woman I'm talking about can still hear me. "I suspect she thought I was going to slink around and--" I stop talking.

Echizen is laughing.

"No, you're weird Fuji, but I don't think you'd go sneaking around anyplace." The boy rolls his eyes at me. "Besides, I'm sure _most_ people would think it was funny to have some crazy person coming to visit."

Mirth suits him. He seems more animated. I smile at my underclassman, but he's not looking at me.

Echizen takes a long drink from the Fanta, and turns around to walk back to the volunteer at the nurse's desk. "Will you throw this away for me?" He hands her the plastic bottle and smirks. "Oh, and if any more of my friends come by, tell them I switched rooms. I forgot to."

I hide a smirk and quietly walk with Echizen down the hall to this other room. We don't have to put gowns or masks on, or wash our hands before going in-- we just walk into the hospital room without any special routine.

"This room is nice," I comment, and sneak a look around the room. The banner the girls gave him the other day is still wrapped up, abandoned in a corner next to a tower of videos. "I'm glad you're not in isolation anymore."

Echizen grumbles something-- I assume it's meant to be a reply. He pushes a button to lower the bed and climbs up. Once he's in bed, he presses the button again to sit comfortably. "I guess it's better...you guys look weird wearing masks."

I smile. "We probably ought to wear masks anyways, don't you think?" I pull a mask from my pocket, and gingerly pick it out of the plastic covering. "I think it makes us look distinguished-- like doctors, you know."

Echizen is not amused. "You don't look like a doctor-- you're wearing school uniform, not doctor clothes." He leans over the rail to look into the bag I'm carrying. "What do you have?"

I slip my mask on, and open the bag. "Just a few magazines and videos Taka and I brought you." I pull a magazine out, and offer it to Echizen. "Taka couldn't come today-- it seems that his father is having an import event at his shop this evening. He said to apologize, but I think he really meant just to say hello."

Echizen takes the magazine with more interest than I expected. I suppose he must be extremely bored here. "There are a few books in there, too...I thought you might want something interesting."

"What kinds of books?" Echizen tilts his head, eying me suspiciously.

"Oh, this and that," I smile, looking at Echizen with as much benign friendliness as I can muster. Echizen doesn't look convinced. "I have all sorts, if you'd like more."

The freshman looks at me for a moment, and then holds out his hand. "Please show me the bag." Though his words are polite, the manner in which he says them is not-- but then, Echizen is always like that. I continue smiling, and hand him the bag.

Our little rookie takes the stack of magazines out, and lays them to the side, and sets the videos to the side as well. Ah well, he's probably mention them to me the next time I come for a visit. Finally, he gets to the bottom of the bag where the books are.

This, Echizen sets on his lap, and examines the cover. "_Hibi ha soredemo kagayaite_," Day after day yet still glittering, "Tani Ikuosu?" He makes a face. "What is this?"

I laugh, "Ya Fumio, not Tani Ikuosu. It's the author's name, and it's a picture book with poems." I open it up to show him a picture. "There's another one, too...this one." I show him the book. "_Kimi to Dokoka eh_," _Going somewhere with you_, "it's by the same author, but it's photos of different girls over different rail lines. It's like photojournalism."

"Hmm, so Fuji likes photography..." Echizen flips through the first book.

"There's one other book." I prod. "It's in the bag."

Echizen fumbles through the bag and pulls out a paperback novel. "Through the Looking Glass," he reads, and smiles. "Heh, English and Japanese...are you sure you don't need it for class?" Echizen smirks at me, waving the book like a fan.

"No, it's my older sister's book. She finished it already, so take your time." I sit down. "You certainly have a lot of videos...what's this one?" I pick up a video, and look at the label. It reads 'U.S. Open 1994.'

"Just a tape," Echizen waves the question off, and leans over to pour himself a large glass of water. "What is everyone doing in practice? Anything special for the game against Rikkai?"

"We're continuing practice mostly as usual...but it looks like Oishi is trying to incorporate visiting here as part of the training," I grin behind my mask. "I think he said a bit about running home or something." I laugh. "Seems like a long ways to go, hmm?"

"I guess," Ryoma is saying, but he doesn't say anything more.

The door flies open before we can say anything else, and we're left staring at the intruder. It's a kid. The boy looks to be several years younger than Echizen, and gives the impression of a wilting plant in the hot summer sun.

"Ah. It's Kosuke..." Echizen blinks at this young visitor, and then asks, "What are you doing here?"

"Wait, shouldn't you say something like 'Hi, Kosuke, nice to see you! So nice of you to drop by!' or something?" the kid retorts, grinning broadly. He strolls over to Echizen's bed, and hoists himself up on the other end. "I'm _hiding_ from the nurse!" Kosuke grins even broader.

"Shouldn't you be in your room?" Echizen tilts his head, and then pauses. "Is the nurse even looking for you?" Echizen raises an eyebrow at Kosuke, skeptical.

"Aaah, no, but it's more fun that way!" Kosuke laughs and I smile.

"I see. Well, even if Echizen is a poor host, it was nice of you to come and visit. It's more fun when there are more players, don't you think?" I smile at the child.

"What, are you playing a game?" Kosuke's eyes widen, and he leans forward, like a plant to the sky. "And I could barely get him to play checkers!" He shoots Echizen are glare, but then turns back to me.

"No, we're not really playing the usual kind of game, you know," I chuckle. "It's more difficult."

"Oooh, what game is it?" Kosuke asks eagerly. "Is it like cards?"

"No, you don't play with pieces," I look at Echizen pointedly, "you just play with people." I smile, and ignore Kosuke's insistent questions. "I'm Fuji Shyuusuke. It's a pleasure to meet you, Kosuke." I incline my head, and Kosuke bows in return.

"I'm Yamashita Kosuke! I'm in third grade and my favorite food is curry!"

"Ah, I like curry, too. Especially the spicy kind." I nod approvingly. "My favorite food is wasabi sushi," I add. "What's your favorite food, Echizen?"

"Ah, I like hamburgers." Echizen slurps the water through a straw. "Ah, still not done yet..." he sighs, and takes off his hat. "I'm sick of all this water..."

"Ah, Echizen--" I start, but I have no idea what to say after that. I stare at the hat on the blanket, unable to avert my gaze. Like the seeds of a dandelion, black strands lay scattered on the bedspread. His hair?

My heart drops as my stomach contorts with a sudden rush of emotions. Shock, I think. Surprise. Remorse. I linger over this last deduction of my own feelings, and wonder what I'm supposed to say.

Echizen glances down at his hair on the bed, and swallows. He sets the glass on the nightstand and shrugs. "I noticed it coming out when I brushed my hair earlier..." he says it so casually and with such precision that I think he must be fighting back some strong emotion. "It's no big deal." His voice cracks on this last sentence, but his resolve to remain cool and collected make his face blank.

"Yeah, it's no big deal!" Kosuke agrees with more enthusiasm then necessary. "But you should cut it off-- it gets everywhere when it comes out and is a pain to clean." The kids says it so solemnly, matter of fact.

"Yeah, I guess..." Echizen shrugs again.

I'm looking at Kosuke, surprised. Somehow I didn't think that he would know about this sort of thing. I suppose he would-- he must be a patient here. Even though Kosuke looks sickly, I didn't really think he was a patient until just now. Though he's young, he knows more about this situation that either Echizen or I.

"Well, you guys have fun playing your game." Kosuke gives another beaming smile, and slides off the bed. "I'm going home today! My mom is coming to pick me up soon, so I'm going to go wait in the rec room. See you later!" Kosuke waves goodbye and ducks out as quickly as he came in.

"Ah, he left already." Echizen stares at the door for a minute. "Geeze, that kid never sits still." He leans back in his bed, and looks over to the window. I can't tell what he's thinking.

I turn to look out the window as well, and let the silence wash over the room. We sit there, staring out the same window, but thinking our own thoughts. What a peculiar connection...

"Fuji," Echizen's voice cuts into the silence. I turn around, but he isn't looking at me. "Could you ask Momo to stop by tomorrow? Tell him to bring some scissors."

"Mmm," I nod. "I will." I turn to look out the window again. "Have you ever read 'Through the Looking Glass?' It's an interesting story..." I don't expect Echizen to answer, and he doesn't. I go on to talk about Lewis Carol and his famous books, but my mind isn't really on these words.

I'm thinking of Echizen's hair on the bedspread, of the tremor in his voice when he asked for Momoshiro.

I'm sure Momoshiro will come-- the question is how I'm going to tell him.

* * *

…tbc…

Thoughts?


	15. Part Fifteen: Hair cut

**Title:** Double Fault (a "Prince of Tennis" fanfic)  
**Warnings:** Mature themes.

**Author: **(: attackfish, LJ: bowlofkaki)

**Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis does not belong to me. I am not making any money off of this. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary: **Ryoma's stuck in the hospital. As he experiences the trials of chemotherapy, he must learn to live with his disease. How will he and his family-- and his friends on the tennis team-- cope? First person present, switching PoV.

* * *

(Echizen Nanjiro PoV I.e. Ryoma's dad)

I crush the end of my cigarette onto the pavement, blowing the last of the smoke into the sky. The past few days, hell-- the past week or so-- has been a nightmare. I'm back at the hospital, looking up at the sky while my son lies in bed likely feeling miserable.

I roll my tongue around my mouth, wondering if it was _right_ to leave Ryoma here by himself for a couple of days. He's only a kid-- a real brat most of the time, not cute at all-- can he really know what he wants? That doctor told Rinko and I to let Ryoma handle as much as he's able. Something about giving him control in this will help, but damned if I know how that's supposed to help. Twelve years old and he thinks he doesn't need his old man hanging around all day.

I walk through the hospital doors, nod to the pretty nurse at the information center, but I don't stop to chat. Today, I'm actually going up to Ryoma's room, not just asking the nurses how my kid's doing. I've been coming up here everyday, asking my kid's doctors and nurses how he's doing but not today. Today I'm going to see my brat. I've stayed out long enough-- it's time to see Ryoma.

I take the stairs rather than the elevator. Even the stairways of this place are kept squeaky clean-- no germs aloud anywhere, I guess. I finally get to the pediatric ward, and I go over to the nurse's station to sign in. One of the pretty nurses, the one who likes Ryoma, is at the desk, busily marking up forms of some kind.

I approach the desk, and chirp, "Good afternoon, Miss Saori!" I smile at the nurse, and sign my name with vigor.

"You certainly have a lot of energy today, Mr. Echizen." Saori's eyes twinkle when she smiles, and she actually looks amused at my presence. "Ryoma will be glad to see you."

"My kid?" I grin, "He'll probably say something like, 'why are you here, old man!' and grumble." I frown exaggeratedly, and pick at my nails. "Ungrateful kid."

Saori looks at me with a knowing smile. "Yes, yes." She goes back to writing on her clipboard. "He's in room 510, Mr. Echizen," she reminds me.

"Aha ha, call me Nanjiro, Saori dear," I leer at her, but she ignores me. I shift my weight to my other foot to strike a pose.

"Here's your visitor's sticker," and she slaps it on my robe with a little more energy than really necessary. Ah well. "Oh, and Mr. Echizen? Ryoma hasn't been too energetic lately. See if you can cheer him up a little." Saori looks me in the eye and give me what she probably thinks is a stern frown (it looks like a pout, if you ask me) for emphasis.

I nod a little goodbye, and find myself walking down the hallway. My feet remember the way. Drawing closer, I hear muffled voices. Is it Ryoma's room? I didn't know he had visitors-- didn't know he actually told anybody. But then, they might have come on their own, or that old woman could have told them by now.

The door is open just enough for me to make out three distinct voices. I shuffle closer, and listen.

"Thanks for bringing Momo, Fuji." Ryoma's voice. "Did you bring the scissors, Momo?" His voice is loud, biting. Have they been arguing?

"Ah, uh, yeah," Momo stutters. "Yeah, I have them. I mean, I brought them," the kid stumbles through the words.

"Echizen, are you sure you want to do this here?" The third voice-- Fuji, I think-- asks quietly. "Why not go to a barber with us instead? I doubt Momoshiro is that good at cutting hair, anyways..."

"I don't _want_ to go to a barber-- besides, I can't even leave the hospital, can I? Just cut it off!"

"Now?" Momoshiro sounds stricken. "Are you sure?"

"Momo, please, just--" Ryoma's voice is tight with anxiety, and determination. He wants to get this done. "Why don't you just--"

"I'm sorry, Echizen, I can't." The kid's voice shakes with emotion. "I just-- I can't. I'm sorry. I can't."

The room is silent.

"Momoshiro, I think you'd better leave." Fuji's voice is cold, condemning. "Come back," he lingers over the word, as though tasting it, "when you can control yourself."

Such harsh words.

I step away from the door, close my eyes, and let my head hang back. What can any of us do? I hold my breath without thinking. I know what Ryoma wants to do with the scissors. I've thought about it often enough over the days. I take a deep breath and try to tell myself that this isn't such a big thing. My kid-- damn. I need a cigarette.

I've never heard my son plead-- I never wanted to. I clench my fists, and for a moment, I feel anger towards this young man, this boy who won't help my son.

It's not the type of conversation I expected to overhear, hospital or no. I don't feel guilty, just overwhelmed. This is the feeling of circumstances so powerful, so strong that I can't do anything about it. Is my son trying to confront this feeling, or is he running away from it?

The door opens in front of me, and one of the kids-- Momoshiro-- bursts out. He looks at me, surprised, but he doesn't recognize me. Momoshiro pushes past me, bumping into my shoulder in his rush to leave.

I take a few steps behind him, but my mind is still on my child left in the hospital room. I stare after the boy running down the hall, and something snaps. "Oi!" I yell after him. "This is a hospital! Don't run in here," I glower after the startled boy, and catch up to him in several long strides.

"I'm sorry!" Momoshiro bows deeply, and does not look up. "I'm very sorry!"

"Kid," I grumble, my voice gruff. Maybe I shouldn't have yelled at him... "Hey," I put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him up. His face is wet with tears. I don't know what to say now. I swear under my breath.

I run my hand over my head, and squint my eyes shut. I never wished for this, never dreamed my son would have to deal with anything more challenging than a hard game of tennis. I never thought he'd-- I frown. Now is not the time. "I'm going to the store. Do you want to come?"

"Huh?" Momoshiro rubs at his eyes. "The store--?" the kid shakes his head, flushing. The boy seems uncomfortable, like he isn't sure of his words. He's just a kid; probably around the age of my son. "No, I better go." He bows again awkwardly, and turns to leave.

I stand there for several long moments, and then walk on.

I don't know where I'm going, but I just keep on walking until I'm out of the hospital. Looking up at the sky again, I light another cigarette, and sit on the curb to wait for a taxi.

I never thought this would happen to my family. I wish I could take it away from him, I wish that there was some way I could trade places. There is no parent who would want to see their child in this position.

Our little family is changing even as I watch. Ryoma has been a good kid. He doesn't deserve this-- no child deserves this. I think back to when Ryoma was a baby, a soft small thing...I was so careful with him, thinking he might break with even a little pressure. When I hold my child in my arms for that first time, I felt like I had finally found my dream. The dream of a comfortable life with my son and my woman.

No matter how often the doctors tell me 'there was nothing you could have done differently,' I can't help but wonder, did we do something wrong? I try to remember if our house had ever been checked for lead, or if we'd ever painted with Ryoma around...would that have caused him to get sick? Could we have overlooked something drastic and caused our son to get cancer? I close my eyes. I can't think about this.

"Mister," a voice yells. "Are you getting in?" I look up to see a taxi driver looking at me through the lowered window of a cab.

"Yes," I go to my feet, and open the door. "To whatever store sells electric appliances, please. Someplace close would be best, of course..."

"Yes, sir," the man affirms, and we drive off.

I look out the window at the hospital. Maybe I'll shave my head too...I'd really look like a monk, then. I snort, picturing Ryoma's reaction. And just think what Rinko would say-- that alone might just be worth it. I laugh aloud, and settle into my seat.

Can't shave heads with scissors, nope. I'm going to find something to get the job done right.

Paper bag in hand, I stand by the door, and pause there, listening. A soft voice speaks, reciting some nonsensical poem. I lean in to listen.

" _Twas brillig, and the slithy toves  
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;  
All mimsy were the borogoves,  
And the mome raths outgrabe._

"It seems very pretty,' she said when she had finished it, but it's _rather_ hard to understand!'

"Ah, Echizen, someone's at the door. I think it's your father." Fuji's voice may be soft, but it carries.

I let myself in, holding the bag to my side. "Hello there, young man. What are you two talking about?"

"Jabberwocky," Fuji says mysteriously, and then explains. "It's a poem in "Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carol. We were reading."

I tilt my head, trying to read the title of the book Fuji holds. I can't see. "Is that right?" I move to Ryoma's bedside and sit in the pink chair. "This place needs more chairs," I complain, "not enough room for everyone to sit."

I look over to Fuji standing by the window, and he continues reading while I set the paper bag on the floor and look around. The videos I brought from home are all put away. I see a new stack of magazines and videos set on the little shelf of the nightstand, and wonder how many of them Ryoma has used. Ryoma himself is facing the wall, curled up under a thin blanket. He hasn't looked up, not even to say hello.

We listen to the story for another few minutes, until Fuji stops reading. I turn around to see Fuji holding the stuffed cat I brought Ryoma.

"A nice little cat like this one ought to have a name you know," Fuji's voice is quiet, but teasing. He strokes the cat like normal people would pet the real thing, smiling gently all the while.

"He doesn't need a name, Fuji." My brat says, obviously exasperated. "It's a _toy._" Ryoma's voice is muffled by the pillow, but he doesn't seem to care.

"Hmm, I don't know," Fuji continues, still petting the toy. "He looks kind of like a Thomas to me."

Ryoma rolls over and looks at Fuji like he's gone crazy. Maybe he says something, maybe he doesn't, but if he does, I don't hear it.

I finally see the scissors lying on the bed. I stare at the abandoned scissors, thinking 'that's where they were...' I'd hoped they put them away, set them out of sight. I watch the gleaming scissors resting on the bedspread and I want to throw the damned things away, want to tear them to pieces.

Ryoma is glaring at me, sticking his chin up. Ah, I know that face well-- determined defiance. It's bittersweet, to see the look now; it reminds me of playing tennis. But we aren't playing right now. This is both more and less important than tennis.

I smile a tiny smile, and say, "Those won't get the job done. You need hair clippers." The words taste like metal in my mouth.

Ryoma's defiant glare softens, and he just looks at me.

I don't know how long we stay like that, just looking at one another. Fuji doesn't read any more from the book, and neither Ryoma nor I say anything. I don't know what we're waiting for, what I expect him to say.

"I don't really want to." Ryoma swallows. "I don't want to shave my head."

Behind me, Fuji closes the book.

"Cut it off," Ryoma says. "Cut it all off."

I nod, and pull the electric hair clipper out of the bag.

In the few moments it takes to set everything up, I wonder why we didn't do this earlier. Would it have made this any easier? A heavy feeling weighs in my stomach as I watch my son's hair fall to the floor.

* * *

…tbc…

The Jabberwocky is by Lewis Carol, in case you missed Fuji's explanation. It's also considered public domain, by now...

Thoughts?


	16. Part Sixteen: Message from Tezuka

**Title:** Double Fault (a "Prince of Tennis" fanfic)  
**Warnings:** Mature themes.

**Author: **(: attackfish, LJ: bowlofkaki)

**Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis does not belong to me. I am not making any money off of this. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary: **Ryoma's stuck in the hospital. As he experiences the trials of chemotherapy, he must learn to live with his disease. How will he and his family-- and his friends on the tennis team-- cope? First person present, switching PoV.

* * *

(Echizen PoV)

I hear the door open, and then a voice. "Hey, kid, you got more mail."

I look up and see that it's my dad. I look back at my magazine.

"Oi, oi, that's no way to greet your dear old man," he grumbles. "I've got letters from your Aunt Eiko and your cousin David." He fans the letters in front of me like a fan. "Wanna read?" My dad's grinning face looms in front of me.

"I don't want to." I frown, and try to go back to reading, but my dad snatches the magazine away.

"They're just cards, kiddo." He hands the letters over, "The Yamashita family-- our neighbors, remember?-- sent some sweets over, too." He sets a box on top of a large stuffed animal from my aunt. I wish people would send me more useful-- or at least more interesting-- things.

I frown at the growing pile of useless gifts, but then turn my attention to the cards. I rip the sides off the envelops, and find that they are cards, just like my dad guessed. One's a glittery flower from my aunt, and the other is a black and white card from my cousin. I open his first.

"Ryoma,  
I heard about you being in the hospital.  
I hope you don't feel too bad!  
At least you don't have to go to school, huh?  
Get lots of rest,  
David."

I flip the card over and look at the front. It's a photo of two comedians, one pointing at the other comedian whose face is covered with pie. I snort a little; it's a dorky card, but a lot better than glittery flowers any day.

I open my aunt's card, and see the printed blue text, "We're thinking of you. Get well soon!" and my aunt's signature underneath. I squint at a handwritten line at the top of the card, "We're praying for you."

I don't know what to make of that. What am I supposed to do-- say thank you? They're _praying_ for me. Weird.

I set the cards on the nightstand, and hold out my hand, expecting my dad to give me my magazine back. He hands me a piece of tape instead.

"You're going to hang it up, right? Saori brought in the tack board for you to use, after all." My dad picks up my aunt's card and places the tape on the back. He sticks it on the board, next to the card my American grandparents sent. There are at least a dozen cards on the board, some from either side of my family, and the Seigaku Tennis Team's card, too.

I look at my cousin's card once more before standing up to stick it on the board. There's too many cards here. I don't want them on the wall, but if I take them all down, Nurse Saori will give me an earful. I give a huge sigh. I'm too tired to argue with anybody about the dumb cards, though. This day is so _long_, and so boring.

"Well, you look like you're feeling better," my dad crows, and sits on my bed enthusiastically. "Your stomach and everything calm down, then?"

I groan, remembering this morning; it was terrible. The medicine had me throwing up so much that they put me on an IV to try and keep me hydrated. I couldn't keep anything down, not to mention some other side effects I really don't want to think about. I spent way too much time in the bathroom today.

"Yeah, I guess." I shrug. They still haven't taken out the IV, though. "I hope I never have to take that stuff again! It's terrible."

"Hm," Dad raises an eyebrow. "Well, we can hope." He drops the magazine in my lap.

I open the magazine, and skim for the article. I've just found the page, when the door bursts open.

"Echizen!" I look up from my magazine to see my senior classmate, Oishi at the door. He steps over to where I'm sitting in a few long steps. He's so excited that he doesn't seem to notice my dad sitting on the bed.

I look at him, a little curious despite the magazine wanting to finish my article. "Did you want something, co-captain?" I've never seen him so pumped up for anything besides tennis. Maybe...I don't dare to finish the thought.

"E-mail!" he breaths, looking positively ecstatic.

My dad clears his throat, still sitting on my bed. "Well, I guess I'll leave you two young people alone." He steps off the bed, and pats Oishi's shoulder. "Make sure the kid doesn't do anything I wouldn't do," he says with an exaggerated swagger and a cocky smirk.

Oishi blinks at my dad, looking surprised to find anyone but me in the room. Oishi recovers quickly, though and nods. "Yes, sir. Thank you." He inclines his head a little as a bow.

I watch my dad's lips twitch-- but thankfully he doesn't say anything. He's so troublesome. Why does my dad have to be so weird? Maybe Oishi doesn't know we're related. I give a little relieved sigh when my dad lets himself out.

"It's an e-mail!" Oishi exclaims again, waving a piece of paper around. "I got an e-mail from Tezuka!"

"Huh?" I blink at t Oishi-- I'm too tired to understand what he's talking about. Did he say an _e-mail_ from Tezuka? I feel the magazine slip from my fingers, but I'm too caught up in my thoughts to care. A letter from Tezuka? My head spins, already full of ideas of what he could have sent.

"I got an e-mail from Tezuka! I printed it off at school," he explains, and hands me a piece of paper.

I take the folded paper from him, and read:

Oishi, please give this letter to Echizen. I  
sent a gift to your address. Please  
give it to Echizen for me.

Echizen,  
This must be a difficult time for you,  
but I know that you can fight this.  
Don't forget about the team;  
they will help you get through.  
Never give up. Keep fighting.  
From,  
Tezuka Kunimitsu

I look up from the piece of paper, sure Oishi must have forgotten a page. I wait expectantly, but Oishi just keeps smiling. "Is that all?" I ask. I roll my eyes, and skim over the letter again. Just like our Captain to be so...brief.

I sigh, and fold the letter back up. I lean over to the nightstand, and grab a piece of tape to stick the letter on the wall. I look at the letter in my hand. What's this feeling? My lungs are leaden; they press heavily on my stomach. I close my eyes.

"Keep fighting." Does he say that because he thinks I'm strong? Or did he say that because he doesn't know what else to think? Maybe he thinks I'm too sick to do anything. My stomach flops annoyingly at this thought. I don't know what he means-- I can't understand it without him being here, standing right in front of me.

A bubbling feeling comes over my arms and legs. I frown and glare at the floor from underneath my hat. _He's_ not here. Why did our captain have to leave Seigaku to do rehab? Couldn't he heal his arm here? I'm gritting my teeth hard enough to make my jaw ache.

_Crinkle, rustle._ I freeze at the noise-- the letter in my hand is creased. My fists fly open, and I try to smooth the wrinkle out. My anger is gone in seconds, leaving me with an upset stomach. I sigh.

"It's great hearing from him!" Oishi says happily. "His e-mails are never very long, true, but they have heart!" Oishi makes a fist, looking to me now. "It's like he's here with us, cheering us on and watching over the team, don't you think?"

"Ah," I mumble. I don't really want to talk about Tezuka right now. I bend over to pick up my magazine, and start flipping through it, looking for the article I was reading.

Oishi is quiet for a minute. When he speaks again, he's watching me intently, and isn't smiling anymore. "Tezuka-- he really does care, Echizen." I look up from the article to see Oishi frowning with concern. Oishi licks his lips, and continues. "I know he doesn't write much, but it wouldn't be like him to do anything else."

"I have no idea what he's talking about." I grumble, and poke at the letter.

"Ah," Oishi smiles a little now. "It's true, his letter is a little vague, so it might be hard to understand. But really, he does care; he's trying to talk to you, after all. He's trying to make a connection, so you should try to understand him," Oishi's seems eager to explain. I guess he doesn't want me mad at our team captain.

I look to where Oishi is standing and shrug. "Yeah, I guess." I try to straighten out the letter one more time, and stick the crinkled paper on the wall, next to the other cards.

Oishi follows my gaze. "Ah, that's our card!" Oishi looks amused and pleased. "but it's a bit patchy, isn't it?" He laughs a little.

I smirk at my co-captain. "My senior classmates suck at card-making." I tug my hat over my eyes.

"Ah, is that so?" Oishi laughs aloud. He takes a few steps closer to look at the tack board. "Oh, this one is in English! Oh, there are so many..." He sounds surprised. Oishi looks at the glittery cards. "_Get well soon,_" he reads. "Hm, that's interesting. Are they from your friends in America?"

"They're from my grandparents, and my mom's younger sister." I shrug.

"Just them? There is more than that!" Oishi looks at the line of cards, reaches one hand out-- almost touching one, but then he pulls away.

"There's one from my cousin, too," I add reluctantly. I don't know why he's making a big deal about it...maybe I should take all the cards down, after all. But then Nurse Saori will lecture me, and try to get me to talk to the councilor. Ugh.

_Knock, knock._ I look up and see the door open. Again. "Ah. Mr. Fukugawa." I stare at my homeroom teacher in disbelief. What's he doing here?

"Ah!" Oishi stares at my teacher, and then bows. "Good afternoon, Mr. Fukugawa," Oishi bows again.

"Good afternoon," Mr. Fukugawa says to both Oishi and me. He shifts on his feet, and I see that he's carrying a briefcase-- the same one he uses for all of his classes.

Did he bring homework? I look at Mr. Fukugawa expectantly, waiting to see what he'll do.

"Well," says Mr. Fukugawa, looking rather awkward. "It's good to see you, Ryoma." His voice warms a little at the second half, and he looks genuinely relieved to see me.

I don't know what to make of that. Did he expect me to look like a skeleton or something?

"Ah, excuse me," I look over to see Oishi bowing again. "I'll be outside, Echizen." And he walks out as fast as he can manage without knocking either Mr. Fukugawa or me over. The door closes with a loud _click._

"Your father tells me you're feeling well today," he begins, looking awkward again. Mr. Fukugawa sighs, and shifts on his feet nervously. "I can see you have a lot of cards," he gestures to the tack board, and the gifts underneath it. He opens his briefcase. "Your classmates made some cards for you, too." He smiles and adds, "I wonder if there will be enough room to hang all of them up?" He pulls out a paper package, tied neatly with string and sets it on the nightstand. "They worked very hard on them."

I don't know what to say. I want to go back to reading my magazine, but I also want to know why my teacher is here. Did he come to give me homework, or just to give me the cards?

Mr. Fukugawa shifts on his feet again, and I notice he's looking at the IV. I frown, irritated. I want to know why he's here. Did he just come to stare at me? "Did you want something, Mr. Fukugawa?"

"I wanted to see you. And to give you the cards." Mr. Fukugawa shuffles papers back into his briefcase, looking anywhere but towards me.

I wish he'd look at me when he's talking. Well, look at my face, anyways. "Right."

My eyes are dry, and I'm sleepy. I yawn, and lean back into the chair. I pull my legs up around me, and lay my head on my knees. Sleepy.

"Have you been keeping up with your studies, Ryoma?"

"Uh," I mumble, "not really." I shrug absently, more staring off into space than anything. Who can think about school? I'm still thinking about Tezuka's letter, and counting the days until the Rikkai-Seigaku match. Will I even be out of the hospital by then?

"I heard that this hospital has tutors," Mr. Fukugawa starts to say, but then he looks taken aback, like he's embarrassed to have said it. "That is, if you feel up to it, you should study as much as you can. You've missed so much school. It's been three weeks, right? Your teachers are concerned about the all the make-up work.

"We've moved on to the next chapter in my class-- we're studying prepositional phrases now." Mr. Fukugawa's words are rushed again. He's babbling. I wonder if it's because he doesn't know what to say. "Well, if you got a tutor, just send him or her up to the school for your assignments. Of course, I suppose you could call as well..." Mr. Fukugawa's words drone out and we're left in silence. I listen to the sound of the hospital, and watch my teacher bump his briefcase into the wall. A few moments pass in silence until my teacher clears his throat.

"Well, how's your tennis season been going--" he starts to say, but then looks alarmed. "Ah, that is, how is-- well," he flounders. He takes a deep breath, and then continues. "Oishi is on the tennis team, isn't he? Has the whole team been stopping by?"

I look at Mr. Fukugawa, but don't say anything. "Yeah, some of them come by." I watch Mr. Fukugawa fidget. "The season's been good, though. Haven't lost to anyone, yet. We're playing Rikkaidaigakufuzoku this Sunday. If we win, we're going to nationals."

"Ah." Mr. Fukugawa nods. He lapses into silence again, and I don't make any attempt to help him out. He stands there with nothing to do, and nothing to say while I sit in the only chair.

The silence stretches out.

"So," Mr. Fukugawa starts, "would you like me to read to you? I have an essay I read to the class today--"

"No thanks. I'm getting tired." I put my feet on the floor, and move the magazine to the nightstand.

"Ah. I better head out then." Mr. Fukugawa sighs. I wonder if he's disappointed or relieved. He picks up the package of cards then dusts it off a little. "Everyone's thinking about you, Ryoma," he says quietly, and puts the package back on the nightstand. Mr. Fukugawa turns to leave, but then says, "Take care," with a strange voice that makes me uncomfortable.

I sigh. There've been way too many visitors today. I look at the bed and frown. It's not even a meter away from me, but I don't feel like climbing back on the stupid thing. This is the children's ward, isn't it? So why are all the stupid beds so tall? I stand up, and hoist myself onto the bed. I guess it's not too high...

I settle into the covers, and lay down, exhausted. Ah, my whole body hurts; I feel like I've been playing hard all day. I reach over for the package Mr. Fukugawa brought and drop it in my lap. Hmm, maybe I should look at these later. I'm sleepy.

"Did your teacher bring your homework?" Oishi asks cheerfully. How he can be cheerful about visiting teachers and homework I don't know, but he is. Maybe he's still thinking about Tezuka's letter.

"Uh," I say, but Oishi doesn't seem to expect an answer.

"Ah, it's great to hear from the captain! I feel like everyone's all together again..." Oishi goes on, but I can't hear what he says. My eyes are heavy. "Echizen?" Oishi's concerned face hovers next to me. "Are you feeling all right?" My co-captain asks anxiously, looking to the door like he means to go get someone.

"I'm just--"

"Mr. Fukugawa is still talking to your father, but--"

"Co-captain," I say a little louder. "Oishi." Finally, he looks at me. "I'm just sleepy."

"Ah, right!" Oishi grins, embarrassed. "Well, the nurse did say to get her if we needed anything..."

"You don't need to leave, co-captain. There's a call button right behind me." I point to the wall.

"Right," Oishi nods, his eyes are still on the call button. "That's good."

I smother another yawn as the door opens, and my dad walks back in. "Ah, why are you still here?" I grumble to my dad. I don't want any visitors, and I don't want to talk. "I want to go to sleep," I complain. I yawn again, and my eyes are heavy. I feel like I could sleep for ages, if I could only close my eyes.

"Ah, are you really tired?" Oishi asks. "I guess I'll see you later then! Kaido and Inui were going to come by tomorrow. I had everyone write down their cell phone numbers, so call someone if you don't feel up for visitors, okay?" Oishi puts a list of numbers next to the phone. "See you later!"

"G'night," I mumble. I watch Oishi bow to my father, and walk through the door.

Ah, if only my dad would just go away, too; then I could really sleep. Oh well. Maybe I'll just ignore him and sleep anyways. I try to pull my cover up, but then I notice the package is still on my bed. I must have untied the strings earlier, because now there's a bunch of cards all over my bed. "There's so many," I grumble, and scoop them all into a pile. I set them on the nightstand. I'll read them later.

"So, that was your homeroom teacher, huh?" My dad scratches his chin thoughtfully. "I didn't know he was coming today...I would have expected him to call ahead of time, but--" he lingers on the last word, watching to see if I'm still awake. "he didn't. That's that," he crows, and hoists himself onto my bed.

"Dad," I protest, but he doesn't listen to me.

"That Fukuzawa--"

"Fuku_ga_wa."

"That Fukugawa teacher, he's your English teacher, right? He said you'd be the best student in the class," my dad picks at his teeth, "_if_ you didn't go to sleep in his class." He raises an eyebrow at me suggestively, and then laughs. "Haha, you should see your face!" He grins.

"Uh, huh." I glare. "Dad, you're noisy. I want to sleep. Be quiet."

"Yes, yes, yes. I'll be quiet when we're done talking."

"Talking about _what?_"

"Your teacher said to get you a tutor, kiddo." He runs a hand through his hair, and then looks to the clock. "Did you know they have tutors here? I guess it won't be too hard getting someone up here. Maybe a pretty young lady will be your teacher!" My dad nudges me suggestively, but I smack his elbow away.

"We can always talk about that later, you know." I grumble again. "I want to go to sleep before they come back in with more medicine."

"Right, right." Dad sighs, and goes to turn off the light.

I'll think it over after I wake up. Right now I can't do any more than close my eyes and hope I feel better when I open them again. I don't know if anything will look better then, but I can always hope.

That's really all anybody can hope for.

* * *

…tbc…

Thoughts?


	17. Part Seventeen: Kaido visits

**Title:** Double Fault (a "Prince of Tennis" fanfic)  
**Warnings:** Mature themes.

**Author: **(: attackfish, LJ: bowlofkaki)

**Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis does not belong to me. I am not making any money off of this. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary: **Ryoma's stuck in the hospital. As he experiences the trials of chemotherapy, he must learn to live with his disease. How will he and his family-- and his friends on the tennis team-- cope? First person present, switching PoV.

* * *

_(Inui PoV_)

Kaido and I run step in step, running to the bus stop that will take us to Kokuritsugan Center.

Not for the first time, I notice Kaido check his pocket for something-- most likely a gift for Echizen. The probability is very high, especially considering that he asked me three days ago if I planned on bringing something for our freshman teammate. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to gather enough data to determine what manner of a gift it is.

I glance at my wristwatch, and look over to my running partner. "Kaido, the bus will reach the stop in approximately six minutes, so we should increase our pace."

"Yes, Inui," Kaido huffs, and we speed up. Cars and buildings speed by as we run full speed towards the bus stop.

I hear the sound of a large vehicle turning around the bend, and Kaido turns to look. "Inui! The bus is already coming down the street!"

"It must be ahead of schedule," I mumble, "or else my watch needs to be reset..." I look at my watch again, checking the time. "Let's hurry-- if we miss this bus, we'll have to catch the next one, and it won't come for twenty minutes."

We sprint along the road and Kaido dashes out in front of me, hoping to reach the stop first in order to give me time to reach the bus stop. Fortunately, there is already a man at the bus stop, so the bus continues along the road, and stops at the sign. I watch as the bus pauses, waiting for the man to get on. In just this moment, Kaido grabs onto the door. I go through the door seconds after him, and the door closes behind me.

I go up the stairs, and grab my ticket just as the bus begins to move again. I follow Kaido to the back of the bus, and sit at the window seat.

"You made good time, Kaido." I say, and take my notebook from my schoolbag. "I'd say you've improved your time again, at least by a few seconds." I jot down a few estimates, and plug them into an equation. "Be sure to pace yourself on the way back, though. It's a long run."

Kaido and I sit in silence for the next few stops. I'm adjusting some statistics, while Kaido looks out the window impassively. The ride isn't very long, and before I realize, it's time to get off. We walk to the front of the bus, drop the fair in the slot and step off.

I survey the hospital grounds. It's well cared for, and it is a break from the usual urban sprawl of Tokyo with its reclusive greenery and long sidewalk. This wouldn't be a bad place for a walk.

Despite the hospital's serene grounds, it unsettles me to stand here. Not for the first time, I think that it's strange for Seigaku's freshman rookie to be in this place. The probability of one of the Seigaku regulars developing cancer is so low that I'd never even considered it, before.

471.3 per 100,000 will develop cancer-- aproximately one in every three people. 1 child in every 500 will develop cancer before the age of 15. The statistics run through my head as Kaido and I walk into the hospital, and head through the lobby and up the stairs.

Acute lymphtotic leukemia. I've looked it up a few times. It seems to be one of the most treatable childhood cancers, and the most common form of childhood leukemia. I think about the rigorous regimes doctors put their patients through, and the many trials of chemotherapy. There is no one treatment plan; each one is made up based on the patient's risk. I wonder if Echizen's is standard or high risk?

I listen to the sounds of our footsteps echoing in the empty stairway, and I walk next to Kaido in silence. We get to the pediatric ward, and push through the door.

A nurse pushes a cart down the hall, and a pair of women talks quietly in the lobby ahead. We go through the lobby, and move to sign in at the nurse's station.

One of the nurses seated at the station looks away from the other nurse she was talking to. She smiles at us, and taps a clipboard. "Please write your name and the room number of the patient you're here to visit." And she turns back to her conversation.

I fill in the information, and step aside to wait for Kaido. When he is done, we set down the hall together, heading straight for room 510.

When we reach the door, I knock firmly before pushing the door open. I walk into the room, and look to where Echizen sits in the bed. "Hello." I nod. "It's good to see you are able to accept visitors today. We came last time, but unfortunately we were unable to come in." I move to the side to allow Kaido to step through the door.

Kaido walks to Echizen's bedside, next to the visitor's chair. He seems to be torn between sitting and standing. "Hello," he grumbles.

I look to the bed and at Echizen sitting there. He looks thin and sickly-- he's lost a good deal of weight. I wonder if the doctors will switch him to a special diet. I could certainly revise the menu I made him. Echizen's hat is pulled down over his shaven head, and I can't help but think he seems particularly pitiable without hair.

"Well," I say.

Echizen looks up from his book.

"It seems we've come at an inconvenient time. You're studying aren't you?" I push my glasses up. "That's the science textbook, isn't it?"

Echizen frowns, and doesn't close his book. "Good afternoon, senior classmates."

"If you're studying, we can come back later," Kaido starts to say, but Echizen interrupts him.

"No, I'm almost finished anyways." He closes the book, and shrugs, nonchalant. "Co-captain Oishi said that you two would come today." He tilts his head to look at the both of us. "Did you guys run all the way here?" His words seem like a challenge, but his eyes seem less sharp.

I think he wants someone to talk to, but doesn't have a clue on how to do it. I smile. Well, I suppose I'll have to help him out. I doubt Kaido will like this, but that in itself is enough to make me persist. "Kaido has something for you, but it seems that he doesn't want me to know about it. So I will go get us all something to drink and will be back in ten minutes."

And I turn, leaving my two underclassmen blinking in surprise.

Hm. Two of our team's most unsociable players left in the same room by themselves.

This is sure to get me some interesting data.

* * *

(_Kaido PoV_)

I stare after Inui's retreating back, staring at the space where he was. What's the meaning of this? Why is he leaving me alone with Echizen? I swallow. Didn't he just say…?

"So," Echizen's voice startles me. I turn slowly to see him leaning on one hand, looking at me intently. He looks just as self assured as ever, but somehow more delicate, also. "You brought something?" he sounds curious.

There's no backing out of it now. "Er, ah, yes." I rustle through my pockets and pull the thing out. "I brought you something." I step forward and press the thing into Echizen's hands.

I try to look Echizen in the face, but my eyes stray to look at his head. I look away quickly. I'm trying to just look at him like normal, but it's hard not to look-- stare-- at his bald head barely hidden under the cap. I can't help looking there. Where am I supposed to look while talking to him? I shift uncomfortably.

Echizen raises his eyebrows. "A book?" He gives the book a long, puzzled, look. He flips it open, and then looks back to me, uncertain. "A diary?"

I nod slowly, then close my eyes and rub the back of my head. Does he not like it? Maybe I should have picked something else-- something he'd like better. I hunch my shoulders and take a slow breath. This shouldn't bother me so much.

"Do you keep a diary, Kaido?" Echizen asks suddenly. He looks so serious, but then he smirks.

"No!" I shake my head vehemently. I feel my cheeks get hot. This whole situation just isn't going how I thought it would. Could this get any more difficult?

"Oh, I see." Echizen's voice is flat. With that expressionless face, it's hard to tell what he's thinking. Echizen sits there watching me with no apparent sign of interest. Does he expect me to talk to him about something? What should I say? Aargh, why did Inui leave me alone in here? Everything I can think of sounds pointless and dumb.

After an awkward silence, I try to explain. "But I thought it might be good for you to."

I close my eyes, and shift on my feet. That's not what I meant at all. I _should_ have said something like 'situations like this can be difficult, so it might be good for you to write down how you feel. It helps sort through your complicated feelings.'

I give a little cough to clear my throat, starting to speak, "Echizen," but a loud crinkling noise stops me from saying anything more.

I blink a little and watch Echizen noisily flip through the diary. The book drops onto the nightstand with a deafening thump. Echizen picks his science book up again, and begins to flip through the pages just as noisily as he had before. Every page he turns gives a resounding crinkle.

Is he doing it on purpose? I try not to cringe at every crinkling page, and watch Echizen read through a section for several long minutes. Who knew Echizen could make the simple act of _reading_ so noisy. I stand there, staring. This is so awkward.

I shake my head, trying to block out the freshman's noise. I look around the hospital room, looking for something-- anything to look at. I notice Echizen's few things scattered among medical equipment. I swallow. It's easy to see that he's here all day with nothing more interesting than homework to occupy his time. I can't imagine. I wonder how he deals with it? I know I'd go crazy if I had to lie down for days on end with no one to talk to.

I feel guilty about telling him that I don't have a diary-- but it's not really a _diary_. It's a journal, and mostly it's used to record the exercise I do-- I use it to keep my routine in check and schedule my training and schoolwork. Echizen could use his for something like that, too. I think he ought to keep to a routine now more than ever.

I clear my throat. "Yes," I grumble, looking the other way. I must look stupid. "It doesn't have to be very long or anything. Just a record of what goes on, or what you do." My cheeks are hot. I can't look at him, not even to see if he's mocking me.

Suddenly, the door opens from behind me. My senior classmate has a bad habit of turning up when you least expect him to. "Did you wait?" Inui's voice is as flat and disinterested as ever.

"Not really," Echizen mumbles from the bed, not even looking up from his science book.

"I brought Fanta and Pokari Sweat. I assume you'd prefer the Fanta," Inui drones, and steps up to give both Echizen and I our drinks.

I lick my lips, examining the drink closely. "Thank you," I say, determining that the bottle is nothing more sinister than a regular-- unopened-- sports drink. Inui's 'energy drinks'-- more like punishment drinks-- are the worst. I shudder at even the memory of the foul things. How something tasting that terrible could be _good_ for somebody I don't know.

"I see you don't trust my drinks, Kaido. I'll remember that." Inui puts his hand on my shoulder, suddenly behind me. He smiles at my discomfort as his glasses shine in the fluorescent lights.

Now is not the time to be thinking about such frivolous things! I'm here-- in a cancer center--to visit one of my teammates. I need to be mature and responsible as his senior classman, not standing here letting my thoughts wander. Echizen is having a difficult enough time without his visitors ignoring him. I will do this!

"So…" I scratch my head, trying to think of something to say. It's no good; my mind is blank. "How are you feeling, Echizen?" I can't come up with anything else. Did I already ask this question?

"Fine." Echizen is curt. He's not making this easy, still flipping through his science book.

"Do you need any help with your homework or anything?" I grapple for something to talk about, but I really don't know much about Echizen's preferences.

He's that idiot Momoshiro's friend, not mine. I have no idea what he usually does in his free time. The only common grounds we share is our like for tennis and he can't really play tennis right now, can he. So he probably doesn't want to talk about it. …what am I doing here? That idiot Momoshiro should be here, not me.

No! I'm here to support my teammate! "Echizen! Do you--"

"What do you want?" Echizen snaps. "Stop asking me stupid questions; it's annoying." He fixes me with a glare, like he's challenging me.

The rude brat; he shouldn't speak to his upper classmen like that! I'm trying to be supportive and understanding and _he_-- he does this. Talking back to his upper classmen, reading when I'm trying to talk-- what kind of treatment is this? It's certainly no way to treat people who come especially to visit you.

"Have you two finished talking?" Inui smiles like Echizen hasn't said anything rude. "Though, I suspect you two didn't talk that much." Inui takes a drink from his sports-bottle, and looks to Echizen and I. "Allow me to guide your conversation." Inui smiles a little, and moves to stand next to me beside Echizen's bed. "What did Kaido give you, Echizen?"

"Diary." Echizen says, coolly, completely indifferent. He opens the can of Fanta, and carelessly takes a sip.

I sputter, and shake my head. How could it come to this!? I thought it was a good gift--I picked that particular journal from all the others. I spent a long time choosing the thing. I went to a bookstore and picked out that little red book with Echizen in mind. I looked through a few stores' selections before settling on the one.

Red _is_ his color-- bright and bold-- a challenging, brash color; like Echizen. It's a small book, suitable for a journal, and easy to carry around. Echizen should appreciate its simple style.

I invested a lot of time and effort in my gift, and Echizen doesn't appreciate it at all. I feel heat rising to my cheeks. I wish I could take the gift back, pretend I hadn't brought anything at all, but it's too late for that.

"Is that what he brought you?" Inui mumbles, and reaches into his pocket. "Yes, that makes sense."

"What do you mean 'that makes sense!' That's ridiculous--" I lunge to try and take the pen from Inui's hand, but he's too fast. "You don't need that kind of useless information!" I try to convince him, but he's already scribbling it down.

"It's no use trying to stop him," Echizen says from his bed, setting his book aside at last. "He'll write down anything in that book." Echizen leans into his pillow, sipping his drink as he watches me struggle with Inui.

I step aside and take a deep breath. This whole visit is ridiculous.

"So, Kaido," Echizen looks directly into my eyes, challenging. "Have you lost recently?" he cocks his head, looking down at me.

"No!" I huff. This kid-- he's trying to provoke me. I can feel my temper rising, and it's all I can do to keep myself from yelling at Echizen.

"Uh huh." Echizen smirks, and readjusts his hat. "Still training hard? What are you guys doing to prepare for the game against Rikkaidai?" He leans forward, like he's anticipating a fight.

"We're training hard," I mutter, trying not to let the kid get the best of me. Somehow it feels like he's breaking the rules, bringing up tennis like this. He can't play tennis, can he? So why even bring it up?

"What? I can't hear you."

"We're all training hard!" I snap, saying it louder than I intended.

"There's no reason to shout; I'm right here." Echizen says, looking amused.

I seethe, blowing air through my teeth. I could do a lot more than shout right about now, but that isn't a good idea. I have to calm down, try to understand where Echizen is coming from. He's bored and frustrated. Of course he'll try to provoke me. I just need to calm down.

"Echizen, how is the food here?" Inui is bent over, looking at something on the end of Echizen's bed. "Do you have any dietary restrictions?" Inui looks at the thing very intently while I wonder what it is he's looking at.

I lean to the side to see whatever it is Inui is examining and see that it's pages of paper. I draw a blank for a second, and then it occurs to me--that must be Echizen's medical records. "Inui!" I give a little cough--my voice is too stern-- Inui's my senior classmate. I clear my throat and try again. "What are you doing?"

"Inui," Echizen says loudly. He sounds annoyed. "No gathering useless data!" He glares at Inui from his bed and somehow manages to look imposing. He may look small against the pillows, but his gaze is as challenging as ever.

Inui ignores both Echizen and I for a second longer and then stands up. "There is no such thing as 'useless data.'"

"It has nothing to do with _tennis_." Echizen sounds exasperated.

Inui makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat.

"At any rate," Echizen says, picking up his book again, "I'll give it a try." He's not looking at me, but I know what he's talking about.

I can't help but smile. Hm, maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all…

"But with no kanji." Echizen's voice is firm, and he purses his lips-- is he wrinkling his nose?

I choke back laughter, and look away.

"Kaido," Inui announces, "it's getting to be time to go, if you want to make it back before dawn." He bends down to tighten his shoelaces.

"Ah." I say, and shoot a glance at Echizen. "We'll be leaving, then."

"Running all the way home? Have a safe trip," Echizen couldn't sound more bored.

"Mm," I grumble. Of course he's not going to give a _proper_ thank you. I bend down to tighten my own shoelaces. It's too bad we can't stay longer. Maybe next time I won't run _all_ the way home…

"Shall we go?" Inui asks, but his hand already on the door. He waits for me to step in place behind him, and then goes through the door.

I look back at Echizen, who isn't reading his book at all. He's looking at me with a tiny frown. I have the sudden urge to go back to him, to put my hand on his shoulder as though he were my own brother.

Not just my teammate.

Instead, I give him a curt nod, and walk out the door, leaving him alone in the room. I'm in the hall when I reach out to stop the swinging door. I can still see him through the opening; he's leaning heavily into the pillows.

He looks exhausted, and somewhat relieved. But there's something in his expression that I can't read.

"Echizen!"

Our eyes meet.

"Keep up the fight." And I let the door close.

* * *

…tbc…

Thoughts?


	18. Part Eighteen: Golden Pair Visits

**Title:** Double Fault (a "Prince of Tennis" fanfic)  
**Warnings:** Mature themes.

**Author: **(: attackfish, LJ: bowlofkaki)

**Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis does not belong to me. I am not making any money off of this. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary: **Ryoma's stuck in the hospital. As he experiences the trials of chemotherapy, he must learn to live with his disease. How will he and his family-- and his friends on the tennis team-- cope? First person present, switching PoV.

* * *

_(Oishi PoV)_

"All right!" Coach Ryuzaki bellows, standing just to the side of the tennis courts. "That's enough for today, everyone. Tomorrow's game is very important--and it most certainly won't be easy. I won't have you injure yourselves today, so I want all of you to go home and get plenty of rest! That's it."

"All right!" the voices of the tennis team blend together. Moments later, the tennis courts erupt into a flurry of motion as everyone prepares to leave. I watch the first years scurry ahead. My own feet take me to the locker room with the others.

Everyone is talking around me, a low buzz of energetic, excited conversation. Above the other voices, I hear Momo exclaim, "Yeah, yeah! That's the spirit! We're gonna win tomorrow! We'll show them our awesome skills!" Momo pumps his arms up and down, grinning from ear to ear. He's the picture of excitement.

On a whim, I address my teammates. "Everyone!" Slowly all eyes turn to me. "Tomorrow is the day--the day we go up against last year's champions! I want all of you prepared mentally, so make sure you get plenty of sleep."

The locker room is filled with hoots and hollers. "Defeat Rikkai!" and "Go Seigaku! Fight-o!" ring through the air. If they weren't worked up before, they certainly are now.

Despite the commotion, I fall back into my routine. I wonder if Tezuka ever had any problems as captain. He always seemed to know just what to say to keep everyone motivated, where I struggle to find inspirational words. I take a deep breath, and offer a confidant smile to my teammates. I can't really do much else, since I'm acting as the stand-in captain.

Though a captain must lend his team strength, with these guys, it doesn't really seem necessary. They don't need much courage--the guys here are more courageous than ten ordinary people, and they all work hard. I feel a swell of pride looking on them, glad to be here with them.

With this team, I don't think it's just a dream to make it all the way to nationals.

"Oishi," Eiji is smiling over at me, "we still going?" He holds up a shopping bag, and for a second, I don't know what it's for. But I remember after an instant--it's the bag Tezuka mailed to me. It has his gift for Echizen in it.

"Yeah," I smile at him and change quickly. The locker room is still full of people when we're ready to set out. Our teammates are still talking, or stretching around us. I want to stay with the others a little longer, to wash my face again, but we need to be going.

"Bye bye! See you guys tomorrow!" Eiji sings out, enthusiastically waving goodbye to our teammates. He slings his bag over his shoulder effortlessly. We walk out together, Eiji greeting dozens of students while I nod to the people who know me. Once we're off the school grounds, Eiji lapses into silence.

We walk to the train station without saying anything, just walking down the road without even looking around. I guess this is what they call "sleepwalking." Or is that only when you're really asleep?

At the station, we wait inline to buy our tickets, but even now we don't talk. The chatter of other students and businessmen surrounds us, all the way to the platform. It's crowded with people here, students and business men alike, they're all on their way home. We're just two more people in the crowd.

Eiji and I stand side by side, waiting for the train in silence. My mind is torn between thoughts of the tournament tomorrow and the impending hospital visit. It's a relief to finally be ready to play in the tournament, but I still can't seem to calm down. I wonder if it's only because our captain isn't here.

I can hear the train before I see it, with its straining breaks sounding loud in my ears. When the train pulls up and the doors open, a few people step out, and some of the people standing with us on the platform move forward to step on. Eiji and I stay put, waiting for our train.

Watching Eiji stare off into space, I start to feel jittery. I want to ask Eiji something, want to talk to him, if only to get my mind off the last time we visited Echizen. Eiji just wasn't himself then, getting all worked up like that. I just can't figure it out and it eats away at my stomach.

"Oishi," Eiji nudges me. "Train's coming." He wags one finger in the direction of the oncoming train.

The train slides to a stop, and we board the train. The silence isn't as comfortable as I'm used to. Ordinarily we can sit side by side without saying anything and it's perfectly fine, but today, the silence feels heavy and awkward. I look over at Eiji who is staring out the window with a blank expression. The train starts to move, jostling me even though I'm holding onto the rail.

Just when I think we're going to spend the whole ride in silence, Eiji starts to speak. "Oishi," Eiji's voice is flat, dead. "Do you think _ochibi" little boy_. Eiji pauses, and then swallows. "will get better?"

"What are you saying? Of course he will!" My voice is harsher than I mean it to be, but still. I stare at Eiji, surprised by this question. It doesn't seem right to talk about Echizen's health like this—it's bad luck.

I don't even want to think about what would happen if Echizen couldn't get better. I swallow hard and bite my lip. Eiji must have been struggling with these thoughts all along. I try to look at Eiji's face, but he's looking away from me. All the sudden, I'm hesitant. Eiji, sounds upset. I don't know what to say.

"Echizen…I wonder if it's hard for him to stay in the hospital like that? What a terribly cold and lonely place to be." We go under a tunnel and I can see Eiji's face reflected in the glass. He's not looking at the scenery before him; he's lost in thought.

Eiji is hunched over, leaning into the window like it's his last support. He sounds so worried, almost—scared? I watch Eiji's hand tighten around the strap of his school bag.

"Eiji," I start to say, and put my hand on his shoulder. "Echizen's will be okay, really." I try to turn him around, but Eiji won't budge. "It'll be all right."

I remember another time like this in our first year, where Eiji was upset and needed a friend to turn to. The oldest Kikumaru son had failed the college entrance exam for the second year in a row, and his parents were not happy. Eiji was moody and anxious, telling me how his family was so mad at his brother that in all the commotion, his parents forgot to give Eiji the supplies he needed for a science project. Eiji told me about it on the way to school, rubbing at his eyes like he'd been crying.

But Eiji is older now, and the situation is different. My stomach turns, uneasy. I don't like the turn of this conversation.

"No it won't be _okay!"_ Anger makes Eiji's voice thin and sharp. My partner whirls around to face me. "It won't be okay as long as he's in the hospital! It's just not the _same_." Eiji clenches his hands and his eyes flash at me. He's looking at me like I don't understand something important, like I'm missing something painfully obvious.

I step back. "Eiji," I say, my voice pained. I don't know what to tell him. Eiji has a temper and is quick to get riled up, but this is somehow different. I can't believe he hasn't said anything before now. Can't believe that he'd even feel this way about Echizen—he's sick; it's not like he deserves this kind of talk.

"Fuji's seen Echizen, right? He _told_ me not to be surprised. That Echizen looks different." Eiji's voice cracks again. "Fuji didn't tell _you_ Echizen looks different, so why'd he go and tell me?" Eiji puts his hand on his chest, his expression betraying him. Fuji's words hurt him.

"Eiji," I motion for him to quiet down. People on the bus are looking at us. "Echizen doesn't look that different. He's lost his hair, but he's still the same person we know. Don't get so worked up about something like this! It doesn't matter what he looks like, right?"

I put my hand on Eiji's shoulder, urging him to turn around. At times like this it's easy to forget that I'm standing in as captain, easy to forget that we're teammates even. In this moment, Eiji is more than my doubles partner, he's one of my closest friends.

"No, it doesn't matter." Eiji mumbles. "But I don't know if I can support him like everyone else. I don't want to see him like--like--" Eiji's voice is choked, as though he's struggling to keep from crying.

I don't know what to say to Eiji to help him-- I'm just as lost as he is. I just don't have enough experience to know how to deal with situations like this. As close as we are, watching Eiji like this makes me the outsider and I can't stand it. I try to calm down by closing my eyes. On the outside, I'm trying to support Eiji, but inside my head is a whirl with dangerous thoughts:

How can you be _doing_ this? Echizen isn't just our teammate, he's our friend! He' needs our support right now, and you've got to support him, Eiji.

"I know what you're thinking," Eiji's voice cuts through my thoughts. "You're thinking I'm a terrible person." Eiji glares at me defiantly, but his lip quivers. "But he's _dying_ isn't he?" Eiji's voice has that thin, sharp quality again, but this time it's hysteria coloring his voice, not anger. "I don't want to see him die," Eiji's voice cracks.

Around us, the other passengers listen intently. I can feel their gazes on my back, and even see some of them looking just to the side of us.

I straighten my shoulders and look Eiji in the eye. "All right. I understand. Don't come. It's better for Echizen this way—he wouldn't want to see you like this."

I put my hand on Eiji's shoulder, a last attempt to calm his nerves. I just don't understand—Eiji is usually so upbeat and energetic. He gets along with others, and is well-liked. Why is he being like this? Doesn't he realize what a burden this is for _everyone?_

We're all trying hard, and not just for Echizen. We're trying hard for each other. Now, teamwork is more important than ever; we need to support one another. Why doesn't Eiji see that? I need his support just as much as he needs mine.

Eiji's shoulders slump, and he stares at his feet. "Oishi, I don't want to go home by myself from _here."_ His voice is forlorn, entreating.

I offer my partner a tight smile. "Then wait in the lobby. I'll take you home afterwards, so don't worry." My voice is softer now, but still politely distant. I don't want to forgive and forget so soon, but no matter how bad things get, I can't abandon him.

Eiji stares at his feet, while I gaze out the window, trying to think of other things. We stand side by side in silence until we reach our stop. It's a relief to get away from the other passengers' curious stares.

I'm glad when we finally arrive. We walk through the hospital in silence. Neither of us is willing to meet the nurses and doctors' eyes.

I sign myself in without more than a simple "thank you" to the nurse.

Eiji hovers close by, staring at the sign-in sheet, but he makes no move to add his name under mine. As I walk down the hallway, I feel Eiji's eyes fixed on my back.

The corridor never felt so cold and lonely. The deserted hallway seems to be a formidable place. To spend day by day here, listening to the constant hum of machinery, the noise of the nurses chatting out of sight-- this is hardly a place that feels private or homey. The nasal voice of the operator interrupts any conversation, sounding over the intercom every few minutes, calling doctors here or there.

It is a lonely place...but it's become Echizen's, so here I am. I can feel the heavy weight of responsibility bear down on my shoulders. I hope that I can bear it alone, if only for today.

* * *

_(Oishi PoV)_

"Echizen," I smile as I push the door open. I peer in to see Echizen offer me a tense smile over a magazine. "You feeling all right?" I glance around the room, and see that there are more things in here than before. It may look bare at first glance, but there's signs that Echizen Ryoma is staying here littered around the room; the sports bag shoved under the bed, a poster for the U.S. Open underneath the television, the stack of tennis magazines under the night stand. All these things show that this is Echizen's room.

Echizen sets the magazine on an odd little table-- it only has two legs so that it can be pulled over the hospital bed. I see Echizen's hat, a plastic cup, and some strange box on the corner of the table. "Co-captain Oishi," Echizen sounds surprised. "Just you?"

I freeze, and look away, unsure of what to say. But it's best not to worry Echizen, so I force a smile and make eye contact. "Ah, well," I rub the back of my head, wondering how to best explain. "Eiji had to go at the last minute," I let the sentence dangle. My lips are numb. "But, besides that," I rush over to the visiting chair and set the bag on Echizen's table. "Here. It's from Tezuka."

Is that a flash of excitement in Echizen's eyes? His whole posture changes in anticipation-- he sits up straighter, and his eyes look sharper. He looks pleased, maybe even happy. Our captain has a big affect on our first year rookie. But the moment doesn't last long.

Echizen gives the bag a bemused look, and looks to me for clarification. "What is it?"

My stomach lurches again. I don't know what to make of Echizen's reaction-- maybe I should have asked Tezuka what he got for Echizen-- what if he's disappointed? I hope that Tezuka chose a gift that will show Echizen how Tezuka feels, not just some meaningless gift. But that's unlikely; Tezuka has a hard time relating his emotions like that…maybe I should have helped Tezuka pick something.

I smile what I hope is a reassuring smile. He looked so happy only seconds ago-- what can I possibly say to make him feel that again? "It's the gift from Tezuka. I'm sure he chose it especially for you," my words are rushed. Do I really sound this desperate? I smile again, and wave him on. "Go on and open it," I urge.

It's just a simple, brown paper bag like so many others you can get from any of the stores around here. Echizen fumbles with it, not even looking at the elaborate design on the front. Echizen pulls out a smaller package wrapped in thin rice paper, and looks at it questioningly.

"Bath salts?" he wonders. Echizen sounds genuinely puzzled by Tezuka's gift. "Strange gift." He doesn't seem outright disappointed, but he doesn't really seem to enjoy the gift either. But then, Echizen isn't the type to show his emotions all that easily.

I look at Echizen closely, looking for signs of disappointment. He's not slumped back into the bed, but his voice lost that excited energy. "Ah, see? It's supposed to be rejuvenating--" I hurriedly gesture to the packet, hoping to spark some enthusiasm in him. "You put it in your bath, and--"

"The game's tomorrow, right?" Echizen doesn't let me finish, interrupting me with a question. He sits up straighter, his hands clenched into fists, and comforter is pulled taut. Echizen is tense, like something important rides on the question.

What brought about this sudden change?

"Yeah, the game's tomorrow." I swallow and choke the words out. I look at Echizen. This game…it's important to him, even when he knows he can't possibly be in it. I don't want to be the one to tell him that he's not included in the lineup; I rather not talk about it at all. "We're going up against Rikkaidai."

"What are you doing for the game? How was training today?" Echizen's voice is taut, and he leans forward eagerly.

I look at Echizen and see how sickly he is from the medicine the doctors give him. My stomach tightens. Echizen is much thinner than before, and very pale. He looks like he'd break if he fell down, but there's still an aura of energy around him. Echizen's eyes still burn with that same passion, that same drive I see in all of my teammates' eyes.

What is tennis to Echizen? It means this much to him, means enough to ask about tomorrow's game even when he can't participate.

I think of professional athletes and how they will push to finish even when they put their health on the line. Even if they fall down, they just pick themselves up and push forward. I remember hearing of an Olympic marathon runner who collapsed during the race, and how she pulled herself up just to stagger past the finish line. _That_ kind of dedication, that drive is what's pressing Echizen.

"Co-captain," Echizen's voice is tight with urgency. I look away. "Please tell me." Echizen turns his face up, eyes shining brightly. He sounds so _upset_, so riled and desperate.

I want to be here to support Echizen, but he's pressing me into a corner. I don't want to have to be the one to put Echizen down, to be the one to tell him he's not playing tomorrow. But as co-captain, the responsibility lies with me. There _isn't_ anyone else to share this burden.

I stare at Echizen, and even though my mouth is open, no words come out. I'm Echizen's co-captain but I can't think of anything to inspire him. He usually doesn't need any words from anyone. What to say?

What? What do you _say_ to a sportsman who can't play?

"Ya-ho," I spin around to see Eiji at the door. "Sorry I'm late!" he waves a little, but takes a tiny step back when he sees Echizen. Eiji's face freezes for a second, his eyes a little wide, and his mouth slightly open, but he recovers his smile instantaneously. Only his quickened breath belays his anxious response.

Eiji covers his surprise with a tense smile, but he's not fooling anyone. He's not as cheerful as he ordinarily is; he's fidgeting too much for that.

I look over to Echizen anxiously, trying to see if he noticed how out-of-sorts Eiji is. I don't know whether or not Echizen sees it, but he doesn't do anything to suggest so. Echizen ignores Eiji coming over to sit on the bed--he's still gazing at me with the intensity of a hawk.

"Yo, _ochibi!_"_ little boy._ Eiji offers another tense smile. "How are--"

"Rikkaidai, they're pretty strong, right?" Echizen's voice cuts like a knife. Such nerve. He's so intent on pursuing the topic, no matter what it costs me to answer. "So you must have been doing _some_ sort of special training."

"Ah, you already opened Tezuka's present!" Eiji bats the cover, trying to direct Echizen's interest to him. Is he trying to divert Echizen's intense energy? Or does Eiji only want to be paid attention to? "So, what'd he get you? Anything good?"

"That's _not_ what I'm talking about!" Echizen snaps. "What does it matter what he got me? Are you even _listening_ to me?" Echizen's voice cracks and breaks; he sounds hoarse. The boy on the bed glares at the both of us. Even laying in bed, he's still so _arrogant._

I cringe at Echizen's words. It's true that Echizen's single-minded words show dedication to his sport, but he's also ignoring his friends. We only came here to make him feel better, but it doesn't seem to be working how I planned.

Is it wrong to try and distract him like this? He's outright angry at being ignored, and he's so intent on talking about tennis. But it's unthinkable for us to talk about tennis when he can't play-- it would be poor sport. Like dangling pieces of fish in front of a cat when you have no intent on ever letting the cat eat it.

_"Ochibi,"_ Eiji gives Echizen a long look, and then closes his eyes. "Hmph! You're so impolite to your elders!" he opens one eye, as though he's trying to see if Echizen is listening or not. Eiji leans forward, and I can already see that he's about to go into a detailed story.

Eiji kicks his feet off the bed, and purses his lips together. "Today sure was _hot!_ Morning practice was all right, but this afternoon! Geeze, I felt like we were playing in an oven!" Eiji fans his face with his hands, gesturing wildly. "But once we started moving it was better. I guess I just stopped paying attention." Eiji shrugs, and pulls his feet up onto the bed, nodding empathetically.

Eiji looses his silly expression, and for a moment looks upset again, but he recovers quickly, and smiles again. "We did normal stuff today, kiddo." Eiji playfully taps Echizen's arm. "We ran laps, stretched and played a short, friendly--er, sorta--match. Everyone was playing really hard, so it was some work out! But coach Ryuzaki called it quits after twenty minutes or so. We're supposed to get some rest or something like that." Eiji shrugs.

I see Eiji sitting on the same bed as Echizen and think that Eiji must really want to help. Eiji saw that Echizen really did want to know what the Seigaku Tennis Team is doing. Of course Echizen would want to talk about normal things! And Eiji saw that even when I couldn't.

Eiji comes from a big family, and he's the youngest. When he was small, he probably only wanted to play with his older siblings, but they naturally wouldn't want to play with their little brother. Who would want to entertain a younger sibling instead of friends? Eiji may know loneliness and boredom better than I thought.

"Let's see…" Eiji squints his eyes shut, the perfect picture of concentration. His face lights up as he remembers something, and is quick to go back to his story. "This morning we practiced our footwork--you know the ladder thing?--while coach had the first years throw balls at us. It was funny watching the poor first years try and keep up with us!" Eiji grins, and mimes throwing a ball.

I watch Echizen lean against the pillows, finally starting to relax. He's completely focused on Eiji's wild story-- he's really getting into this, now, going into a play-by-play account of his game with Fuji earlier this week. Echizen nods here and there and sometimes interjects a question, but for the most part he's listening quietly.

I watch the two others talk about tennis and start to relax a little myself. It's all right to talk to Echizen about tennis. He _wants_ to talk about what we're doing, after all. It's no use trying to keep him in the dark--even if we're just trying not to hurt his feelings.

I know how hard it must have been for Eiji to go in there, and it means a lot to me. Carrying this burden with my partner makes me feel like I'm _not_ alone. I finally join in and tell Echizen the details of our rigorous training, and before I know it, it's been more than an hour since we got here, and Echizen is looking exhausted.

"So," Echizen yawns, "10:00, right? I'll see you guys there…" He sounds like he's on the verge of sleep.

I leap to my feet. "Oh, sorry! I guess you must be feeling tired…yeah, we'll see you tomorrow. We'll be waiting for you, Echizen." I say in a hurry, pulling Eiji to his feet. I push him to the door, and turn around to give Echizen a smile, but he's already closed his eyes.

I step into the hall and shut the door behind me. "I wonder if he'll really be able to stay for the whole tournament. He seems so tired…" I say to myself, but then shake my head.

I turn around to look at Eiji, and give him a smile. Words can't express how proud I am, how happy I am that Eiji decided to come in after all. I feel like I understand a little of what it means to be an older brother. "It seems you were able to calm down." I look over to Eiji, hoping to see him smile at my words. I want him to understand how happy I am he came, to know that I'm proud of him.

But Eiji only nods at my words, and walks straight ahead. He seems to be in a world of his own. Eiji's leaning against the wall, starring down the empty hallway. He puts one hand on his head as though thinking. He's got that far-away look again.

I don't know what Eiji's going through, but I can give him some space. I expect the ride home to be as silent as the trip here, but at least it won't be so awkward. Eiji, however, doesn't keep quiet.

"My grandfather had cancer," Eiji says, his voice flat again. "He died when I was really little."

I blink several times before the words sink in. I never heard anything about this-- he never told me! I feel myself step forward, unconsciously trying to go to my friend.

My mind is awhirl. This explains his strange reaction, his moodiness. Eiji looks lost, like he's swimming against a powerful tide of emotions. Of course he'd be upset, if his grandfather died of cancer! No wonder he reacted so strangely that day, and kept putting off visiting.

"Oh, Eiji. I didn't know," I fumble over the words, at a loss of what to say for the umpteenth time this afternoon.

My mind just isn't working right. This is like finding out my friend is sick all over again. On some level I'm relieved. It's embarrassing, but I'm glad that Eiji isn't as shallow as I thought.

I feel guilty for even thinking these things! Eiji must have been suffering by himself this whole time, and I just thought he was being a bad friend. I should have guessed something wasn't right, should have asked.

"I was too little to really understand what was going on. Nobody would tell me what was going on." Eiji takes a few steps down the hall without really watching where he's going. I follow him, thinking he's ready to go, but Eiji stops suddenly, and just stares up at the ceiling.

Eiji snorts a little. "I actually thought I might get sick like him by being in the same room with him, or by eating the dried permissions he liked." Eiji traces one finger along the wall, looking ahead.

I'm worried about my friend. He doesn't seem well. Maybe I should get him out of here. "Eiji, do you want to grab something to eat?" I try.

Eiji ignores my question, still standing, stalk-still in the deserted hallway. "That was when my family decided to keep me from visiting my grandpa." Eiji chews on his lip and takes a slow breath. "But I don't know, I think that only made me more worried about my grandpa…even after my sisters told me no one would get sick by visiting, I still thought that they all might get sick, too…

"Grandpa died not long after that." Eiji turns to look at me, and gives a half-hearted smile. "This is the first time I ever talked to anybody about it…"

I reach out and put my hand on Eiji's shoulder. Even though words fail me, I think this simple gesture can say what I'm feeling; I want to support my partner.

Eiji doesn't need any prompts to keep talking, though. "It was a long time ago…I thought I'd forgotten all about it, but then…coming here brought back a lot of memories. I don't want to forget my grandpa, but…" He looks ahead, still not meeting my eyes.

"Eiji, I know you loved your grandfather. But nobody would want to thinking about those kinds of painful memories." I move to stand in front of my partner, forcing him to look at me. "It's hard for _anybody_ to deal with a loved one having cancer, so of course it be hard for a little kid! Especially if no one explained to you what was going on." I watch his face carefully, looking for some sign of understanding.

"I know, but…seeing Echizen like that…" Eiji shakes his head, unconvinced. He looks miserable all over again. "Seeing Echizen with no hair and looking so sick. I just remembered how my grandpa looked right before he died." Eiji shivers and draws his arms around himself.

"And this afternoon Fuji told me-- and just _me_ not to be surprised about Echizen being bald. Why'd he do _that?_" Eiji clenches his hands, looking at me questioningly. "I know that people with cancer lose their hair. Why is everyone only telling _me_ not to be surprised? Am I that unreliable?" Eiji's voice cracks, but I can't tell if it's because he's upset or because he's angry at Fuji's careless words.

Although he acts like a clown, Eiji is a sensitive person. I forget that sometimes, but now it's easy to see. He looks hurt, maybe even angry.

"Eiji, you're not unreliable!" I'm quick to reassure. "It's good for Echizen to talk to you-- look at what you did back there! _You_ calmed him down."

_When I couldn't. _The words are on the tip of my tongue, but now isn't the time for that. I need to concentrate on helping Eiji.

I look Eiji in the eyes, and continue. "You're a good friend. Fuji just-- I don't think he meant to hurt you." I want to keep the two of them from fighting over this, but Eiji interrupts me.

"Did he?" Eiji bites back, eyes flashing. "You know how he is sometimes—when he's being protective of someone he's downright mean!" Eiji shakes his fist, his jaw set.

"But that's just it, Eiji!" I grab Eiji's flailing hand and keep it still. "Fuji wanted to protect Echizen _and_ to keep you from being surprised." I look at Eiji's face, and see that he's more upset than angry.

"How do _you_ know?" Eiji pulls his hand out of my grasp. He takes a step away from me, back tense. I don't know what to expect; he looks so on edge, like he could either yell or cry. But then Eiji closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and shakes his head vigorously.

"Never mind!" Eiji looks determined to calm down. "There's no use arguing about stupid stuff like this." Eiji shoots a glance in my direction, actually looking at me for the first time in what feels like an age. "Sorry, Oishi. It's been a tough day for you, too, huh? And I've been acting like this. Some friend I am."

"It's all right," I say sheepishly, still feeling guilty for my earlier feelings. If Eiji knew that I had thought he was being a lousy friend, he'd be even more miserable. "I understand."

"Yeah." Eiji kicks his feet half-hazardly, and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Thanks for listening to me, Oishi." He offers a tiny smile.

"Any time!" I smile back at him.

I clear my throat, and look towards the nurses' station where we signed in. It's about time we go. "So, you really don't know the way home from here?" I start walking down the hallway, sure Eiji will follow.

"That's not what I said, Oishi!" Eiji's arms flail about, and he pouts. "I said I didn't want to go by myself!" He catches up with me in one long stride.

"Don't worry, Eiji. I won't let you get lost." I chuckle.

I grin, and put my hand before Eiji. He looks surprised for a moment, but then he grins back at me, and grasps my hand. It feels good, clasping hands, like we've strengthened our friendship.

Together, I think we can do this.

* * *

…tbc…

Thoughts?

By the way, one of my good friends, Taes, drew me fanart:

I would really love it if you all told him how amazing he is (so he'll draw me more!!):) If you don't have deviantArt, comment here, comment on his journal...something like that.

I asked him to draw a pic (sketch, really, but he never listens to me) of Ryoma without hair-- because I got a LOT of comments from people saying that they couldn't imagine him without hair.

So, everyone! Click on the link in my bio, and please say thank you for me. :)


	19. Part Nineteen: Watching a Game

**Title: Double Fault (a "Prince of Tennis" fanfic)  
Warnings: Mature themes.**

**Author: **(: attackfish, LJ: bowlofkaki)

**Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis does not belong to me. I am not making any money off of this. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary:**Yukimura, in spite of his illness, takes his place on the courts to show Echizen his tennis- and his will to win. However, the opposing team will not give in so easily! The Seigaku Tennis Team regulars want to win, and more importantly, they want to support Echizen. Which team will triumph?

Originally updated: August, 2008

* * *

_(Echizen PoV)_

This is driving me crazy, waiting for the door to open second after second. It's ten times more frustrating waiting for the doctor to come and tell me _if_ I can go. Not "when," just "if."

My dad is in the visitor's chair, arms crossed. He's waiting, just like me. I glare at him, wishing he'd just go away. But even while thinking that, I know I'm really only angry with Dr. Kobayashi, not my dad. But him sitting there _doing nothing_ bothers me for some reason. It's hard enough waiting by myself. It would be easier if he'd go outside or something, but he won't go, no matter how much I stare at him.

This room is suffocating- there's only room for one person to sit at a time, so I'm stuck sitting on the bed. I want to be anywhere but here- I'm even dressed to leave. All I'm waiting for is my doctor to give the okay.

I let my breath out slowly, wondering why Dr. Kobayashi didn't just tell me _last night._ I even made one of the nurses bring him up, but when I asked, he said it would depend on this morning's lab work. I know I've been feeling pretty bad for the past few days, but I _need_ to go to this tennis match.

I haven't been able to do anything with the team for a month, haven't been able to _play_ for a month.

Day after day I'm stuck in the hospital feeling just as bad as I did- maybe even worse- than I ever did _before_ coming here. It's hard to see the point of any "treatment" that keeps me from doing the things I love.

Even though Seigaku Tennis Team may continue on without me, I'm still a part of the team.

I look at the door for what feels like the thousandth time today, hoping it will open. This is stupid. I should be looking anywhere _but_ the door, but I just can't look away. I want to slide off the bed and go _find_ Dr. Kobayashi and make him let me go.

Dr. Kobayashi may be my doctor, but sometimes I think he forgets that. He hardly ever comes around here except in the mornings, and on some procedures. I know doctors are busy, but couldn't he come around here more often- if he'd just come this _one_ time I'll forget about it.

I mean, who cares if I don't see Dr. Kobayashi? He's not going to let me out for at least another week- and he might try to keep me longer if I'm not feeling any better.

I shake my head. I don't want to think about how much longer I'll be stuck here. I want to go to the Seigaku-Rikkai tennis match today. I look to my dad in the chair. "What time is it?" I look right into his eyes.

My dad looks at me, coolly watching me even as I stare him down. "Three minutes since you last asked; 10:27." He looks at me sternly, looking calmer than he has any right to be right now. My dad has just been sitting there patiently since early this morning. Why isn't he pacing, or complaining about the doctor being late?

I sigh, and clench my fingers around my comforter. I'm already late; everyone was supposed to meet at 10:00. Even though I'm hardly ever on time for these school things, I can usually get there by now. Everyone probably thinks I'm not coming or that I don't want to come.

I wonder what they're doing right now. Are they on the bleachers cheering? Did they notice that I'm not there- do they even care? By now, they must have started the first doubles game. I wonder what the lineup is. I bend down to retie my shoelaces, trying to ignore the heavy feeling in my stomach.

I wish there was a clock in here, if only to give me something to look at. Instead, I stare out the window, waiting impatiently for Dr. Kobayashi.

Finally, the door opens, and I breathe a sigh of relief. "You're late, Dr. Kobayashi." I glower at the man at the door, and tug my hat down. "So? Can I go?"

Dr. Kobayashi is business-like and quick as always, rushing here and there to see all of his patients. He smiles a little as he makes his way to my bed. "Good morning, Ryoma. How are you feeling today?" He takes my chart off the end of the bed and flips through the pages. He acts like he didn't hear my question.

I grit my teeth, looking at Dr. Kobayashi suspiciously. "I'm fine." I answer, guarded. I don't like how things are going so far. The doctors are always ignoring my questions, but I get the feeling he's avoiding the subject, rather than just ignoring me. "Can I go now?"

Dr. Kobayashi sucks in air through his teeth, while he looks over the chart. He does it several more times before commenting. "Seems you haven't had a particularly bad reaction to your medicine…" The doctor ignores my scoff- I'd hardly say it wasn't 'particularly bad.' "Do you have any nausea?" He finally looks up, giving me an appraising look.

I lean on one knee, and sigh impatiently. I really hate this routine. "It's not so bad. They haven't given me anything this morning, so I feel okay." I lean backwards, and shrug, trying to show him I'm okay.

Dr. Kobayashi nods, and jots something down. He flips through the pages once more, and then goes back to the front page, pen poised. "When was the last time your bowels moved?"

Bowel movement? Isn't that the doctor way of asking-? I blink at the doctor, wondering why they need to ask these kinds of things. Why don't doctors ever ask any normal questions- like 'where are you going today?' "Er, last night."

Dr. Kobayashi nods, and scratches a few notes down. He shuffles the papers together, realigning them into a neat stack. "Well, Ryoma, we're at a bit of a standstill here." The doctor sets the papers against his side. "Your ANC(1) isn't too bad, but your white blood cell count is still a little low…I don't know that I'd recommend going out for the time being. With so few white blood cells, it would be too easy for you to catch something. We don't want you getting sick- it's too easy for a cold to turn into pneumonia."

"What?" I don't believe this. He's not telling me I can't go, no way. "I'm not going to catch anything- I'll sit by myself. I just want to _go_." I want him to look up, want him to meet my gaze. "You _told_ me I could go."

"That was before your white blood count started to drop," Dr. Kobayashi points out, and I know it's true. He told me that more than a week ago, when things were going well- or at least not going _badly._ But I know Dr. Kobayashi is right. Things change quickly.

"Doesn't that mean the medicine is working?" I hate the pleading sound of my voice.

"Doctor," my dad cuts us off. He puts his hands on his knees, looking stern. "I think it would be good for Ryoma to get out." Dr. Kobayashi looks at my dad in surprise, but doesn't say anything. My dad continues, "He needs to be with his team- with his friends- right now. Just for a few hours. Please."

I stare, surprised as my father bows his head. For a moment, no one says anything. The silence is suffocating.

"I see." Dr. Kobayashi watches my dad, contemplating something. I hold my breath. "I'd prefer you stay here, but," Dr. Kobayashi pauses, and licks his lips before continuing, "I suppose you can go out for a few hours." He smiles at me, and pats my arm.

"Great!" My dad grins, and stands up to shake the doctor's hand. "Thank you, doctor," he pumps his hand enthusiastically and then gives a little bow. Jeeze. At times like this, it's easy to remember my dad lived in America for so long...

Dr. Kobayashi nods to my father, and then looks at me. "But you aren't there to play, Ryoma." He looks at me sternly. "You should stay away from the crowds, and wear a mask at all times." Dr. Kobayashi puts my chart back on the end of the bed, and straightens his jacket. "And understand that I don't want you out for more than a few hours; as soon as the game is over, come straight back to the hospital."

"Yes, yes." I roll my eyes. "I hear you. I'll be right back."

"This is very important, Ryoma. You _must_ wear a mask, and stay away from crowds." Dr. Kobayashi takes another step towards the door, but he's still facing me. "Also, keep your hat and jersey on, to limit your sun exposure. I'll have the nurse bring you some sunscreen." He puts a hand on the doorknob, and smiles at me. "Have a nice trip, Ryoma."

I smile to myself. It's almost too good...but it's true. I really am going, really am leaving the hospital.

I can't wait!

* * *

_(Echizen PoV)_

"They're having a really big tournament there today- the Kanto Regional Finals!" The taxi driver says loudly, his eyes flitting from the road to the rear-view mirror, and then back on the road. He's been chattering since we left the hospital, going on and on about this or that.

I pull at the mask on my face, trying to tug it into a more comfortable spot. My breath feels too warm, the mask's string is too tight, but I have to keep the stupid thing on. I give up with a sigh, and watch the buildings as we speed by. I can't keep my eyes away from the window; it's good to see something besides the same old hospital scenery. I'd stare at a bunch of brick walls, that's how much I want to see something new- anything, so long as it doesn't look like the same stuff I see from the hospital.

"Must be nice to be out on a day like this," he says softly.

I look at him, and for the first time, he doesn't look away. I smirk at the driver, and surprisingly, he smiles back at me. But I guess he can't see my expression with the mask on…I stare at him, trying to figure out what he expects from me. I look away, irritated. Of all the taxi drivers who never say a word, why'd we have to get the odd ball out? I just want to be there already, and skip the getting there part.

The taxi stalls at a light, and the driver looks uneasily at the ticking meter. I wait impatiently for the light to change, clenching my hands into fists. What's he all worked up about? I attempt a glare, but give it up. We'll get there soon enough.

The sunlight bounces off a building front, making me squint. The scenery blurs together as we start moving again, and I familiar buildings come into view. It won't be long now. Tokyo's crowded streets rush by, people bustling to and from building to building. Life just keeps on going, on and on…

"So," the taxi driver says, and clears his throat. "Nice weather we're having, isn't it?" He looks to my father and me for reply, but I just keep staring out the window. I don't have anything to say to this guy.

We finally pull up to the grounds, just in front of the main entrance. The taxi stalls enough for me to get out, and I don't wait a second to escape. I don't stop to see if my dad follows- I just want to get to the stands and see whatever's left of the first (or second, by now…) game.

There are only a few people lining the entryway-most people are on the courts by now. I walk over to the match-up board, scanning the list to see which court Seigaku is on. There aren't many teams listed- only a few are competing or a chance to play in the National Tournament.

I turn around, ready to head from the court, but there's someone standing right behind me. I shrug my way away from them, not stopping to look at their face.

"Oh, sorry," the guy says, but then stops. He turns to a girl next to him, and then stares after me. "Isn't that Seigaku's first-year regular?" He whispers the comment, but I can still hear it.

I can feel his eyes follow me, and feel the other students watching me, too. I shove my hands in my pockets, and don't look back. I should have expected something like this, but all I've been thinking about is the tennis. I wish everyone would just stop staring and get _on_ with things.

"Hey kid, what's wrong with you? Taking off on your own like that." My dad puts a hand on my shoulder and looks me in the eye. His expression is serious, worried.

I stare back at him, an uncomfortable feeling pulling my stomach. I pull away. "Leave me alone. I don't need a baby-sitter," I snap. I don't want to be near him—near anyone—right now. Not if everyone's going to treat me like a freak. I walk past all the whispering—staring—people. Curious or pitying, I don't _want_ to hear any of it, but I can't close my ears:

"_That's_ the Seigaku regular?"

"He's _playing_ today, is he?"

"I heard they've got another player."

"What's _wrong_ with him?"

"Be quite! He's walking this way."

I try to tell myself that there really aren't that many people talking about me. Most of them just follow me with their eyes, staring silently. Is it pity that keeps them quiet, or stupidity? I grit my teeth; they don't understand a thing.

I walk past all the stragglers, and approach from the back entrance of the court where no one can see me. The scoreboard isn't looking too good-Rikkai 5, Seigaku 2. I look the court, and see Momo dashing to hit a ball. He and Kaido are drenched in sweat, and look like they're going to collapse any minute. The Rikkai players look similarly exhausted, but somehow they're still playing in great form. I see it just has Momo does-he's out of position, and can't compensate for the taller player's next move. I watch Momo jerk to the side, watching the ball soar only feet away from him. The ball doesn't bounce there, though-Kaido's in the perfect position to slam the ball across the court.

The players on the other side are already in position, however, and the shorter player leaps into the air to hit the ball behind both Momo and Kaido.

"40-15!" the referee calls, and I bite my lip.

Kaido blows air through his teeth, and bends down to tug at his laces. Buying time?

On the stands behind them, everyone is silent. Their faces are taught, hands tense and clenched. Kikumaru leans forward and yells, "Keep on trying!" but even he sounds desperate. Seigaku is struggling, and it doesn't look like we can recover. I swallow, feeling more like a part of the team than I had moments before. Just with that one point, I can feel the tension of this match. Kaido and Momo want to win, but they can't. Their expressions say that much.

Kaido looks defiant, Momo frustrated, but he smiles at his partner. They push each other on in times like this. Momo takes his position in the serving box, and bounces the ball on the hard ground. After a few tosses, he throws it into the air, and slams the ball across the court.

The bald player runs the ball down, and returns Momo's serve with a powerful slice. They volley the ball back and forth for several long minutes, but the Rikkai pair has an edge. Both teams are exhausted beyond their limits, but Rikkai is ahead, and it gives them the confidence they need to make the point.

The air erupts into applause and yells, even as Kaido falls just behind the yellow ball. Kaido grits his teeth, but pulls himself off the ground. He stands stoically while Momo approaches the net, glaring. Kaido goes to meet the other players, where they shake hands and take their separate ways.

As I start down the stairs, I feel dozens of eyes turn to me, silent, but watching. I don't look at the spectators on the bleachers, keeping my eyes on the court in front of me.

It doesn't take long for my teammates to see me. Kikumaru vaults off the cement barrier, and trots a few steps to meet me. "You're late, kiddo!" He says, but he's grinning. "I thought you weren't coming!" He swings his arm around my shoulder, jostling me.

"Kikumaru," I say through gritted teeth, "don't shake me so hard!" I glare, but the mask dampens the effect. Figures.

"This way," Kikumaru shouts enthusiastically, pulling me by the hand down the stairs, two at a time. Soon we're at the base of the stairs where all the regulars stay.

"No thanks," I jerk my hand away. "I'll sit up there." I look up the stairs the way we came, eying the steps. I roll my eyes at Kikumaru, trying to figure out why he had to drag me all the way down here, a ways from where I actually _want_ to sit.

"Up there?" Kikumaru sounds aghast. He tilts his head, following my gaze, and frowns in confusion. "But no one's up there!"

Kaido looks at Kikumaru, face red and arms sweaty from the match that ended only moments before. "Let him sit where he wants," he gruffs. Kaido's eyes flick towards me for a moment, and he gives me an almost-smile, and a clipped nod.

I nod back at him.

"Ah," says Oishi, coming out of a stretch to stand by me. He's holding his racquet, looking ready to start the game. He doesn't talk about the game, though. "Won't it be difficult to see? And what if you have to leave? It'd be easier if you sat closer…" his words run together, but I understand him all right. He defiantly can think of a lot of problems in a few seconds.

Momo walks over to base of the stairs, and the others are close behind. Everyone's standing within a few feet of me; Momo and Kikumaru are actually brushing my shoulders. I meet Momo's eyes, wondering what he'll say. "Good to see you," he says. He's more relaxed than he has been in ages- maybe because we're on a tennis court. "You _completely_ missed our game, though." He grins toothily.

"I saw the last part. You guys were really fighting-those guys had to work for that win." I shrug, and turn back to the stairs. Everybody's so eager to stand right next to me, but after days in a private hospital room, it just feels weird to have people hanging all over me. Unfortunately, I don't get very far.

"Echizen!" Ryuzaki hollers. Apparently she won't let me get away without talking to her first. I try not to sigh as she approaches, hands on her hips. "Why aren't you dressed out?" She looks at me sternly, but her eyes are twinkling. "Put this on." She tosses me the familiar blue and white jersey without batting an eye.

"Yes, ma'am." I smirk. Strange old woman.

"Oh, and one more thing," she adds, still smiling peculiarly. "Take the bench."

"Ha?" I blink at her, my bossy teacher-coach standing in front of my team. "The bench?" I look from regular to regular, looking for some hint of what she means.

"Bench coach, stupid." Momo raps my hat, grinning despite himself. He points to the side, directing my gaze, "she wants you to be the bench coach."

"That would be best." Inui nods to himself, pushing his glasses up his nose. I can't tell if he's talking to himself, or me. "There are fewer people on the court; it's more…sterile."

Ha. Like anyplace outside of a surgeon's room is _really_ sterile. The bench is less likely to be covered in student germs, he means.

I just nod. Inui is strange, but surprising. Most people don't think about that sort of thing. I wonder how much data he's gather about-I stop myself in the middle of the thought. I don't want to finish the thought. Instead, I just head over to the bench, and sit down.

"You guys try your best," I flick my eyes upwards, at the sky, rather than look to my teammates.

Coach Ryuzaki laughs, and claps Oishi on the back. "That's the spirit, Echizen! You'll do just fine." She's clearly amused.

Hmph. Not like she ever does more than utter a few encouraging words…or bark at Momo and Kaido to behave. At least those guys have already played…

"You lot could stand a better attitude as well! Show some Seigaku spirit!" she orders, and settles herself on the bleachers. The others are slow to follow suit, hovering around me, instead.

"Before we start," Inui places a heavy hand on my shoulder and puts a tall glass in front of me, "drink this." The glass is frosted, dripping with perspiration, but it doesn't disguise the drink inside. It's green.

I take a tiny step back, before I even realize what I'm doing. I don't want _that_ stuff anywhere near me.

"Wah" Kikumaru waves his hands around empathetically. "Stop, stop!" He shakes his head, and frowns at Inui. "We won't let you give little Echizen any of your vile drinks, Inui!" He wags a finger in front of Inui, scolding. "Are you trying to _poison_ him?"

"It's perfectly harmless," Inui deadpans, while Kikumaru crowds him, getting between me and Inui.

We all look on, Oishi stepping closer to me, and everyone else backing away from Inui. "Hm, I don't think you should drink it," Oishi tells me, none too subtly. He gives me a knowing look, and frowns grimly. "Who _knows_ what's in it."

I look at the green stuff suspiciously, frowning. I do _not_ want to try one of his little experiments, not after all the other strange things he's had us try. I think I'll just go sit down.

"It's a _health_ drink," Inui is saying, trying not to spill the drink as he's pushed farther back by Kikumaru. "A _milk_shake." His back is against the cement barrier, now, and he has nowhere else to go.

"It's green!" Kikumaru yells, his voice breaking. Behind him, Momo snickers.

"Of course it's green; it's matcha," green tea, the kind used in tea ceremony. I blink, the words still processing. Green tea? "A matcha milkshake. You should drink it, Echizen." At last, Inui sidesteps Kikumaru, holding the glass in front of him again.

"Eh? It's a _milk_shake?" Momo blinks rapidly, mouth hanging open. He looks from Inui to me, and then to Fuji. "It can't be! No way." He shakes his head empathetically.

"Hmm," Fuji approaches Inui. "Let me see," and he takes the tall glass from Inui's hands. He cautiously smells the creamy liquid, and then smiles. "It's all right, Echizen. It _smells_ like matcha, nothing spicy." He takes a few steps towards me, and offers the glass. "Taste it."

I look at the green liquid warily, but at last I reach for the glass. I give it a good sniff-it smells _sweet_ and has an herbal smell. I guess that's the green tea. "Is it _really_ just a green tea milkshake?" I ask suspiciously. "Nothing else?"

Inui sighs, and gives me a look "It's half whole milk, half cream, sugar, and a dash of powdered milk. And matcha, of course. I would have put whipped cream on it, but I thought it might melt before you got here…"

I shrug, and pull my mask down a little. I take a small sip. And then another. "'s good." I proclaim, and let the cold drink slide down my throat.

It certainly tastes better than the food they've been trying to give me at the hospital. That tasteless stuff just irritates the sores in my mouth and throat. The inside of my mouth is covered in sores, which makes eating more of a chore than anything-especially since I can barely keep anything down.

"Great job, Inui!" Kawamura grins. "You should make some for the team."

"Yeah, I'd rather drink a green tea milkshake than Penalty Tea any day!" Kikumaru says matter-of-factly. He peers at the drink, and nods. "It actually looks _drinkable_- maybe even healthy!"

"All right, everyone!" Oishi shouts, clapping his hands together to get our attention. "Let's not forget we came here to play today. Seigaku!" He hollers, and we all respond with a bellowing,

"Fight-o!" The cheers coming from our side of the court are deafening. Five fists go into the air, as our coach-and I-look on. The team looks enthused, that's for sure.

I smirk behind my mask. Rikkaidai is going to have to work _hard_ to keep up with us.

* * *

Bench coach, as I guessed, won't really be that hard- or interesting- until the doubles pair takes the court. Unfortunately, they're _still_ on the sidelines. While I watch them stretch, Yukimura stands directly in front of me. I frown, and look at him questioningly. What's he standing in front of me for? _I'm_ not the one playing today, after all.

Yukimura doesn't smile, but his eyes look amused. Kind of like Fuji, really. "It looks like all the members have arrived," Yukimura says blandly, looking me square in the eyes. "I'm glad you showed up, Echizen." He offers a cool smile, and then looks to Oishi. "Let's have a good game." And with that, he turns back to his own teammates waiting on the other side of the courts.  
I snort. This guy doesn't know when to give up; it's not _me_ who needs challenging- it's the doubles pair right behind him. But Yukimura doesn't look at them, or even at his doubles pair on his side of the court.

Across the court, the Rikkai doubles pair watches their captain, passive, maybe even bored. The next two players are stretching on the sidelines, their movements in synch. On our side, Oishi and Kikumaru are also stretching, their eyes fixed on their opponents.  
I smile. These guys are getting into it.

Finally, the two doubles teams meet in the center, and a voice rings out over the intercom. "Rikkaidaigaku Fuzoku, Yagyuu-Niou pair to play Seishungakuen, Oishi-Kikumaru pair."

Oishi and Kikumaru move to the net, eyes focused on the other team's players. Oishi, ever the leader, offers his hand to shake. "Let's have a good game," he says, his voice sure and confident. "We're here to win!"

The two Rikkai players look unimpressed. "I doubt you'll last long," the player with glasses shrugs, and takes his place in the serving box.

The voice of the intercom announces the start of the game, and I edge forward, eyes fixed to the ball. The Rikkai players are good, I decide, watching the flawless serve.

Oishi and Kikumaru are quick to answer, firing rally after rally. They're in top form today, and more than just determined. The golden pair has a certain energetic passion that's lacking in their opponents. Rikkai plays well, but they lack drive. I'm not surprised when Seigaku wins the first game. Oishi and Kikumaru clasp hands, in good spirits. Oishi smiles confidently, and Kikumaru is focused.

The Rikkai players, however, just smirk, unperturbed. They're not bothered by their lack-luster game at all. I stare at the Rikkai pair, and wonder what they're thinking.

Oishi serves well, right to the service line, but Rikkai is there, waiting. This game's different-they run the golden pair to the ground, hitting vicious shots that zip out of reach. Oishi and Kikumaru are surprised at the sudden change in play style, and it's showing in their play. Kikumaru throws a few points away, unable to keep up with the lightening-fast shot. Behind me, Inui mumbles some statistics about Rikkai's "laser beam". So that's what they call that shot. Huh.

"What a sneaky trick!" Momo grumbles, clenching the railing. "Aaah, Rikkai makes my blood boil!"  
"Ch, stupid," Kaido utters. "You're just upset because you lost the last match."

"What do you mean I lost the match, eh, viper?" Momo raises his voice, temper flaring. "I think _you_ had a part in that as well!"

"Quiet, you two!" Ryuuzaki orders, not even looking away from the game.

"I don't know, it seems like a good strategy." Fuji murmurs. "They threw the first game, but were able to get a good idea of how the Golden Pair plays…not to mention the mental advantage they gain by changing their own play so drastically."

I watch Kikumaru dash after a ball, just barely missing it.

Kikumaru scowls and clenches his fists. The game is over.

The Rikkai supporters cheer, but the players seem oblivious. The player wearing eyeglasses drinks some water, but his teammate just stands there silently.

Oishi and Kikumaru approach me, and I hand them each a towel. Oishi murmurs "Thank you," but doesn't meet my eyes.

I slurp Inui's milkshake loudly, and Oishi looks up, confused. "Haven't you guys been practicing a new formation?" I ask. "Or are you going to let them push you around the court?"

"Okay, squirt!" Kikumaru says, a hint of energy returning to his face. "I'll unleash my special technique and beat that super-whatever shot!"

"Laser beam," Oishi says dryly. "All right!" Oishi pumps his fist. "That's the spirit, Eiji! We'll show them what Seigaku's made of!" And they return to the courts, looking much better than they had minutes before.

I settle into the bench, and prepare to watch things heat up.  
It's Rikkai's serve. Niou's serve is energetic, and strategically placed, but Oishi hits it back, not waiting to see if the opposing team misses; he's quick to assume the Australian formation. Kikumaru's sprinting much faster than before, already into position even as Rikkai hits the ball back into Seigaku's court.  
_This_ time, the laser shot is returned. The eyeglass-wearing Rikkai player hits it back just as fast, but Kikumaru runs it down as well.

"0-15" sounds out.

Rikkai's doubles pair, however, is nonpulsed, amused even.

Rikkai's return shot is unbelievably fast-Kikumaru can only blink as it whizzes by. The golden pair are stock-still for an instantly, but quickly go back into game mode. There's no way they'll miss again.

I watch the other team closely, puzzled. It's not the same guy shooting the lasers- it's his teammate. His shot cuts at a harsher angle, and is faster. The difference in their shots is huge.

Oishi and Kikumaru are surprised, but the still go after each ball. Seigaku doesn't get any more points, leaving the score at 1-2.

"Don't mind," Oishi tells Kikumaru, but his voice is shaky. "We can make our game." Oishi is trying too hard-but I guess it's only natural since he's standing in as captain.

Neither he nor Kikumaru says anything to me as they switch courts, but I don't care. I'm more interested in what they'll do. Tennis has always been exciting, and _this _match is the first I've attended since before I was admitted. I would give anything to be on that court right now, but I'm stuck watching from the bench.  
At least I can see well.  
Kikumaru tosses his racket, from hand to hand, his attention fixed on Rikkai. Kikumaru's a flurry of energy, chasing down ball after ball, actually getting close to where it arrived. He steps faster and faster, darting into Oishi's area as well. Oishi doesn't dash to the front, however, but stays in the back. Kikumaru leaps, moving impossibly fast. He hits the ball, but only barely. It hits the side of his racket, and ricochets to the side of the court.

"Eiji!" Oishi starts, but he doesn't say anything more. Instead, he goes back to his position.

The two lasers keep Seigaku from scoring even a single point, though Kikumaru gets close. It's 40-love, and Kikumaru looks desperate, but also angry. He glares at Oishi like his partner isn't keeping his side up. They're tense, and, unsurprisingly, their teamwork is starting to wear.

Rikkai slams another ball across the net, and I know my teammates aren't going to hit it. I can't stand watching this one sided battle.  
"Keep on fighting!" I yell, surprising even myself.

Rikkai actually fouls.  
I smirk, and when my teammates turn to look at me, I give them thumbs up. I look at them, and Oishi meets my gaze.  
He smiles, and something strange happens. Kikumaru takes the back end of the court, abandoning his net position. And Oishi doesn't even seem to mind. They're not going to let another ball past them without a fight- I can see it in their faces. Rikkai will have to sweat to win the next set.

Rikkai hits a flat laser serve straight down the center, but Oishi sidesteps it, letting Kikumaru get it. Kikumaru runs like the devil's on his heels to get a shot at that ball, and he makes it.  
Kikumaru hits the ball, but it flies too far out of bounds. He grins anyways, ready to fight out the next game.

Seigaku may be down 3-4, but you couldn't tell from the look on their faces. Oishi's serve is flawless, and fast. It's not as sharp as Rikkai's laser shot, but his aim is better than anyone's. The two teams hit the ball back and forth with vigor, pushing against their limits, raising the standard with every volley.

Kikumaru makes a great game-maker, and with Oishi backing him they're near invincible.

Rikkai's laser shot cuts just as hard and fast, but Seigaku is playing on a higher level. We're tied 40-40, but Rikkai's players are losing form. They make a great pair, but they're not in sync the way Oishi and Kikumaru are. Seigaku takes the set with a well-placed moon volley. I smirk across the court at Yukimura, but he's not looking my way. He's perfectly at ease, not worried in the least. Heh, Well, he'll see what Seigaku can do soon enough.

Rikkai's captain is speaking to his doubles pair, expression blank.

I look up at Oishi and Kikumaru and smirk. Not that they can tell, with this stupid mask on… "Now _this_ is tennis." I say, and hand them some water. "Can't believe you let those guys," I jerk a thumb at Momo and Kaido, "lose the first game, though. Seigaku's level can't fall _that _much while I'm gone. You guys are in good enough shape."

"Hmm, Kiddo's being nice," Kikumaru makes a fake surprised face. "Hehe, we're doing good, he said!"

"You still have to catch up, you know," I remind him. "You're still down."

"For now," Oishi grins. "We're going to win this game!" I nod as I watch the other team talk. The doubles pair is completely absorbed in Yukimura's speech, not looking anywhere else at all.

I don't have anything else to say, though. The golden pair wants to win, and they're in a good mindset. They'll get themselves through this game without me lecturing them. Oishi and Kikumaru don't seem to expect much from me, though. Just to watch them play, and say a few words when they stop for a drink. This coach thing is a little boring.

As soon as they're back on the court, however, my attention is fixed on the players.

It's Rikkai's serve, the player wearing eyeglasses is in place. I frown. Wasn't the other one wearing eyeglasses before?  
I look from player to player, and sure enough, the first guy isn't wearing glasses anymore. Huh. That's some sneaky strategy, reversing roles like that…the shock of the real laser had surprised Seigaku's golden pair, but not any more. Now that we've seen their trick, they've got nothing but skill to keep taking the games. Like they'll be able to.

The first serve is as fast and deadly as ever, but Oishi is already into position. Kikumaru is controlling the game from the back, making certain the ball goes where he or Oishi can get to it. But Rikkai has other plans-they take the first point with a clever move. But Oishi and Kikumaru keep their calm, simply waiting for the next serve.

I wonder if Rikkai's even trying to hit good laser shots, knowing that Seigaku can counter them. A shot like that would be hard to hit continuously…not with the same speed and accuracy, anyways. The two teams volley the ball back and forth, hitting faster and faster while sending their opponents to opposite ends of the court. But Kikumaru's reflexes are not easy to match, and Seigaku scores a point to tie us at 15-15. Hm. This set's going to be interesting, I think.

Neither team is willing to back down. I lean forward intently, ready and waiting for whatever these guys'll give.

They don't disappoint me, that's for sure. Kikumaru and Oishi are full of energy, and their teamwork is faultless. Rikkai's doubles pair is hard pressed to keep up with them, but they give it their all. Too bad for them, though. Their fancy shots aren't enough to break the Golden Pair. Not today, anyways. The match plays on in front of me and I smile. Seigaku is going for the win.

Not much longer, the referee calls out "Seishungakuen 6-4, game, set, match."  
The crowd roars in appreciation. I smirk at Kikumaru and Oishi, and take a sip of my milkshake. This is _much_ better than watching old tapes on TV all day. Much better.

"_Ochibi!" _little boy, "We did it!" Kikumaru chirps, holding his arms out wide. He looks like he's about to give someone- probably me- a hug. "We did it, we did it, we did it!" Kikumaru grins wide, and leans towards me.

"Eiji!" Oishi reprimands, but he's smiling too. "Echizen needs to rest!" He looks firmly at Kikumaru and holds his hand up.

"Oishi, we won, we won, we won!" Kikumaru gushes. Instead of giving his partner a high five, though, he gives Oishi a tight squeeze. Just as soon as he gives our Co-Captain a hug, he turns around to face the other regulars. "Seigaku~"

"Fight-o!" they chorus. With all the smiles on their faces, I'm sure the singles matches are going to be full of energy.

"All right, team!" Oishi calls, and with a brief nod to me, trots over to where the others are.

"We all have important matches here ahead of us," he begins, all the while whipping his face with a towel. "so let's keep going at this level!"

"Yeah, yeah, let's all win!" Kikumaru adds, sliding in next to Kawamura. "Taka, here's your racket!" he grins.

"Seigaku~" Kawamura bellows. "Fight-o!" And he leaps from the stands.

I smile and pull my hat down. These guys might have _too_ much energy.

Rikkai doesn't stand a chance.

* * *

(Taka PoV)

The first single's match is over. I still can't wrap my mind around it, and apparently, neither can Momo.

"So, you know, Inui and Yanagi used to be doubles partners, right? Their first game was like they were testing each other, spouting statistics and stuff. So, it _looked_ like Inui is at a disadvantage at 5-4 in Rikkai's favor, but it was _really_ a plan of Inui's. He made it just like the _first_ match they had back in grade school." Momoshiro gestures enthusiastically with his egg sandwich and then takes a bite out if it. "He told me so," Momo says around the sandwich.

Just after the team meeting, we broke for lunch. The first singles match went quickly, and we're all full of energy. No one expected Seigaku to do so well against Rikkaidai's champions, but we've progressed nicely.

"I know, I know," Echizen grumbles, picking at his _bento_, boxed lunch. "I was _there_ you know. Closer than you were even." Echizen looks at Momoshiro with amusement, and takes a slow drink of his grape soda. "Inui won. Yeah, I saw."

"But it was awesome!" Momo clenches his hand into a fist, looking like he's about ready to squish his sports drink. "And Oishi and Kikumaru did great, too! You should have _seen_ the other guy's expression, kiddo." Momo's face is the picture of amusement. "Oh, yeah, you _did_ see it! Ehehe."

I smile into my thermos bottle. Momo is certainly worked up.

"Heh, you seem distracted, Taka." Fuji's quiet voice interrupts my thoughts. "Thinking about someone nice?" Fuji smiles teasingly.

"Eh, Fuji! I didn't see you there." I grin at him apologetically. "What do you mean 'thinking about someone nice?'" I frown at Fuji. "It's not like _that, _you! It's just nice to see Echizen out of the hospital is all..."

"Hm, that's true." Fuji agrees, nodding sagely. "He does look pale; I'm sure the sun will do him some good. And the tennis." Fuji smiles crookedly. "Not to mention the home-made _bento. _Really, the three of you didn't each need to make a bento...three is a bit much. But it looks like he's eating yours, Taka." Fuji tilts his head to the side to consider Echizen. "Though he could stand to eat all three..."

"Hey, you know I can hear you, right?" Echizen turns to glare at Fuji and me. "Stop talking about me!" He pulls his hat down lower, and resolutely turns away from us.

I notice he takes a large bite of the _umeboshi nigiri, _pickled plum rice ball, and picks up the vegetable sushi. Probably a good thing I didn't give him sushi...I think I read somewhere that cancer patients aren't supposed to eat raw fish...or was that pregnant women?(* )  
I shake my head and look at Fuji and chuckle awkwardly. "Ehe, yeah, it's nice everybody's all together. Seigaku is defiantly going to win!" I smile, trying to sound more confident than I feel.

"Oh?" Fuji's eyes meet mine, like he's searching for something. "And what about your match, Taka?"

Fuji never has been one to walk away from a challenge. "Eheh, I kind of hoped we'd have won before I had to play." I smile with embarrassment and push some beans around in my box lunch. Both Fuji and I know that it's not likely that I'm going to win. Not against Rikkaidai's "Emperor."

"Just enjoy the game." Fuji suggests, and he sits down beside me. "Hmmm, your lunch always looks so good. Mind if I have a bit?" Fuji smiles politely. "You can have some of my wasabi and ham sandwich if you like."

"Eh, no thanks." I laugh. "But you can have some, sure." I offer Fuji my lunch box.

To my left, Momo and Echizen eat in silence, Momo slurping his drink and Echizen chewing his rice ball thoughtfully. Seeing the pair of them sitting together at this tennis match is nice, I think. Everyone's glad to have him with us. Relieved as I am to see Echizen here, though, my stomach still lurches.

Is it because I'm worried about the first year, or because I know that my match is a throwaway game? I know nobody expects me to win-not against Sanada. I'm just filling the space while Tezuka and Echizen are away.

No one expects either Inui or me to win-if Tezuka or Echizen were here-

but I can't think of that!

I just need to _relax._ If I could enjoy tennis for what it is-a game-and enjoy the thrill of a match, everything will be fine. I don't need to worry about winning or losing. I just have to enjoy myself-and be glad that everyone's here, together.

I take a deep breathe, and smile. Today's going to be a good day, no matter the outcome.

* * *

fin. (more or less. Not where I planned on finishing, but I don't see myself writing more).

Citations:

* Actually, I did (originally) read that when I was looking at my older sister's book on pregnancy. But, according to National University Hospital, "One point to note: as chemotherapy will weaken your immune system, it is important to avoid any uncooked food (such as sushi etc.) to prevent infection." So, while Ryoma probably could eat sushi, he probably shouldn't. Unless he knows it is freshly prepared and kept properly cold.

"Chemotherapy." National University Hospital. 23 July 08.

**Absolute neutrophil count (ANC)** is a measure of the number of neutrophil granulocytes (also known as polymorphonuclear cells, PMN's, polys, granulocytes, segmented neutrophils or segs) present in the blood. Neutrophils are a type of white blood cell that fights against infection.

"Absolute neutrophil count." _Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia._ 22 Feb 2007, 08:15 UTC. Wikimedia Foundation, Inc. 24 Feb 2007

* * *

**Author's note:** Thank you all for sticking with this story, despite the lengthy wait! It still amazes me that so many people are reading this story, and that many of you are (eagerly) awaiting updates. I want to say thank you to all of my friends for their continued support. Special thanks to Keiko for being an awesome friend, and all of my LJ friends!

I've also picked up a medical beta, Ara Hannan (see my bio for a link). Without her empathetic words, and medical experience, this story may not have gone as far as it did. Thank you, Ara for your friendship, and all your help.

Unfortunately, this story has been discontinued/ is on hiatus. Eg. It's not likely to be "finished" (though this is a fairly plausible place to end...it ends on an up note, yeah?). It's been a good ride, and quite a learning experience for me as a growing writer. :) I've changed a lot since I started, and (I hope) my writing improved some.

I was able to connect with quite a few people with similar experiences to mine, and that was gratifying. None of us are alone in our experiences with cancer, ALL or otherwise! I'm very glad to share experiences with others.

Thank you all again for your continued support!


	20. Part 20: Back to School

Three long weeks in isolation, one week for observation, and three days at home for the school and me to get ready. That's all I missed, one week of which was the last week of summer vacation and welcome back ceremony.

I didn't think Seigaku would give so much homework in two weeks, but that goes to show you...And I suppose it didn't help that I never finished the summer vacation homework.

And so I wait in front of the teacher's room with a sheet of advice. A few other students walk past me, taking the role book or the classroom key, some glancing at me, and others looking past.

Mr. Fukugawa finally comes out to talk to me in the hall. "Echizen." his eyes crinkle above his mask. "So good to see you again! I hope you're feeling better. Anyways, just go on up to your homeroom. Your assignments are in your desk. We'll discuss your study partner in short homeroom. see you soon." Mr. Fukugawa takes the paper, and I give a little bow- inching my head only the slightest, hoping that my newly purchased wig wouldn't slide off my head.

I go up the stairs, relishing the exercise as even that little exertion steals my breath. I want to linger by the stairs and thus stay out of the classroom for that much longer- but the flow of students just arriving makes it difficult.

I'm reminded of first semester, when I came to Japan (and Seigaku) to start middle school. The school uniform jackets are gone, so instead of a sea of black, there's only white shirts and girls' sailor uniforms.

Finally, I make it to the third floor, and then I head to 1-2. I pace myself so that I come in behind two of my classmates- two girls whose names I don't remember. I make it to the teacher's podium without attracting too much attention, but loudmouth Horio catches sight of me on my way to my desk.

"Echizen! Good morning, Echizen!" he grins broadly. Horio clumsily makes his way over, standing right in front of my chair so I can't put my things down. "Feeling better, Echizen? 'Cause I mean, you looked like you were going to hurl yesterday during tennis practice-"

"Horio." I interrupt. "You're in front of my chair."

"Horio~" Katsuo complains loudly. "You're keeping Ryoma from sitting down."

I frown, wishing I could tug my cap over my eyes. I don't really care about all the curious looks or anything, but I could do without such loud classmates. They make a fuss about _everything_.

So I just put my bag down and fish out the homework Kikumaru gave me yesterday. I add it to the pile in my desk, wondering exactly where Kikumaru got the first stack. I keep conversation to a minimum by putting my head down, waiting for short homeroom (and a long day) to begin.

* * *

Classes are mostly lecture, so in spite of knowing that I'm already behind and could use an explanation, I find myself nodding off during the more slow classes.

_Do the teacher's have something against me for missing school—or having cancer? Why are they calling on me?_ But the girl sitting behind me whispers the answer to the question for me. When she answers the next question I realize that the teacher—Mr. Sakaue, the math teacher, was just going down the row. That explains it.

Several long minutes later, the bell rings and we bow our farewells.

"Thanks," I turn around to tell her.

Her eyes flick to my wig, and I wonder briefly if it's slipping. I frown, unsure, but settle for sitting down.

Just like they did between first and second period, the first year tennis members start their way over to chatter at me. I put my head down to _try_ and keep them from wasting their time.

But it's not a friendly poke from one of them, but a gentle pat on my shoulder.

"Oishi-senpai," I start and sit up a little straighter.

"Hello Echizen." he smiles and presses a cold sports drink into my hand. "Managing to get some rest, I see?" He smiles and I halfway wonder if he's teasing. "Maybe you'll remember the information better asleep, is that it?"

I return his smile and shrug. "Lectures are boring." I offer. "I have to stay after school to do makeup work for math today...classical Japanese tomorrow, and talk to the science teacher during lunch." I complain. I don't know how extra lessons and assignments will ihelp/i with all of my makeup work, but they seem to think it will. I stifle a sigh.

"Hang in there," Oishi laughs. "Maybe someone will tutor you. Wasn't Fuji and Eiji doing some of that at the hospital?"

I nod. Fuji was, but Kikumaru-senpai was easier to distract. I don't mention that, though.

Oishi nods approvingly, and hands me a bottle of water. "Make sure you keep your fluids up And try not to make the teachers fail you. They don't want to have to fail you, you know, but it's hard for you to pass if you don't do the work."

I stare at him. Do third year students just know this kind of thing, or is it just Oishi? "I'll do the work." I grumble. "I'll pass. Don't worry."

"I'll leave it to you, then. See you later!"

I watch him go, wondering how long the tennis regulars are going to be watching me between class. It doesn't look like they'll leave me alone, even if I am (temporarily) off the regular team.

* * *

A gift for Jonah and all others who left reviews sharing their personal expereinces with cancer and leukemia. Jonah, I hope you're doing well and enjoying whatever you're doing.

I don't think I will write on this regularily or at all, but those of you watching will get alerts. :)


	21. Part 21: Rainy Days

_A/N:_ Thank you everyone for your thoughtful reviews! I was relieved you were still reading. I'm always happy to know that this story has touched you, and am open to hearing any stories you have to you all for reading.

* * *

_(Ryoma PoV) September._

I can't believe I'm actually expected to take the train home if it so much as _rains_. Bike riders can get away with a rain coat, but no, not me. I have to take the train.

I sigh, adjusting the flimsy cotton mask—a mask that people usually only wear if you've got a cold in Japan. Actually, maybe in Asia in general…I think I remember hearing about people in China wearing masks as well when there was some outbreak of some flu or other…

"Echizen!" Momoshiro hollers, running onto the platform and between the lines of passengers waiting alongside me.

"Hey Momo." I examine his wet school clothes. Momo is a bike rider. "What happened to your rain coat?"

"Er, I uh…" Momo grins. "I usually wear that on my bike, you know? Yeah, on my bike."

"You're soaked." I smile lopsided under my mask, but Momo wouldn't notice. "Why didn't you ride your bike? Didn't you tell me it's faster the train?"

Momo shifts on his feet. "Sticker." He blurts, and then rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment. "I can't ride it until I get a school sticker…"

I frown. That doesn't quite add up. "What, you're telling me you didn't get one _first _semester?" Momo's eye twitches and I snort. "You got a new bike?" I offer, all the while wondering at the real reason.

"Yeah, yeah." Momo grins, going along with that.

The train arrives, and people rush out, and we file in. The train doors close. Neither of us speak for several long moments.

"Did you catch a cold?" Momo finally blurts out.

"…no. It's just for when I go someplace with a lot of people. I'm not supposed to handle other people's pens or money, either…"

Momo's face freezes up for just a moment, but he forces a laugh. Only his shifting feet suggest he's uncomfortable with, I dunno, Me. Me being sick.

"That's a good reason to get people to treat you. A great way to get people to buy you things."

I want to laugh and agree, or at least shrug and let it go. Momo is my best friend at Seigaku…or at least, he was. But I can't forget him and the scissors, and how Fuji and even Yukimura visited more than Momo did.

"So, eh, you caught up on your school work?"

I shrug. There's a knot in my stomach.

"You need some tutoring? Or at least, someone to do homework with…" Momo hangs from the bar, ignoring the plastic hand straps intended for just that purpose. I forget sometimes, but when he does stuff like that I remember that he's as tall as most high school students.

I stay quiet. The doors open and close again. Other passengers get on or off the train, clutching umbrellas and briefcases.

I look out the window, feeling more and more irritated with the rain, with my school and with Momo. Sure, he can't play tennis today either, but neither can I, not today, and not tomorrow. Not until the coach lets me back into practice. Unlikely if I keep putting my homework off…

But what's the point? Who cares about busy work, or summer homework I still haven't done, or stupid friends who don't visit enough.

"Echizen…your stop is next, right? Hey, you have an umbrella?"

"Ah." I look down at my bag, so much smaller without my tennis gear, but sure enough, there's no umbrella. I must have left it back in Seigaku's station…

"Re~ally?" Momo laughs again and I scowl. "I guess we'll have to hope good old 7/11 has some umbrellas left for us." He snickers.

"It's not _funny_," I snap. When the doors open, I dash through, eager to get away from my upperclassman.

But of course, with those monstrously long legs, he's caught up with me. "Slow down, jeez. I said we could get an umbrella."

I feel my heart thudding in my chest, and a wave of dizziness comes over me. Maybe it's the warmth of the train station compared with the cool, moist air outside. Or, it could be the weeks of no exercise. Irritation washes away all thoughts of illness ruining my form, of never being able to play competitively again. No _way_ I'll let that happen.

But if I so much as run for a few minutes and spend fifteen minutes recover, that's bad. Some defeatist part of me can't help but think. I glare at Momo's sneakers. It's just not fair that he can catch up so easily, that he gets to play tennis every day without having to worry about his health. He only has to study and play tennis.

I want to run away again, but I don't. Instead, I hang out on the train station stairs while Momo buys an umbrella. Some elementary students run down the stairs with their bright yellow umbrellas, shrieking and giggling as the light rain hits their faces. A white flash of movement in the distance catches my eye. I look again.

Something small and white is in the hedges of someone's yard a few hundred meters away. I take a step forward. Is that…?

"Karupin?" I jog towards the tiny figure, completely forgetting about the rain. Easily winded or not, if that's my cat, I'll go get her.

"Oi, Echizen! Wait up a bit," Momo calls after me. He runs past the neat lines of people heading towards their houses or the station."What's got into you?" His eyes are trained on me, so he doesn't see the small white animal run from under the hedge and into the road.

He notices me dashing after her though.

"Echizen, you brat, don't—" he winces as I do just what he was about the say not to. That is, run into the road. "This isn't America, you crazy kid!"

I ignore him, and follow the cat to the other side of the street and across another street. I wind up near the river, half under Momo's newly bought umbrella, half damp from the light rain.

"Why are we stalking that cat?" Momo asks, exasperated.

"That's _my_ cat, and I want to take her home. She doesn't like to get wet."

"Well, she's wet already, and getting you wetter. You hold the umbrella. I'll get the stupid cat."

Karupin crouches low in the grass. Momo walks slowly, kind of diagonally towards the cat. But Karupin is smarter than that. She lets out a pitiful meow and scampers away from my friend.

I squat down and call to my cat. "Karupin, come here. I'll take you home."

"Kitty, come on," Momo joins in, trying out some English. I snort at his accent.

"Ah. She ran away..."

"Your cat listens about as well as you do, Echizen." Momo sounds amused even as Karupin hides farther into the weedy riverside. "Are you sure we should be out here in the rain? She'll come back on her own, you know. She'll come back. It doesn't look like the rain bothers her much at all."

I shake my head. "I'm not leaving my cat out here to drown."

Momo sighs and then dashes after the cat. Karupin is still to fast, and she runs farther along the river. Finally, seemingly at random, she heads towards the rows of houses.

I watch the two—it's almost like watching a scene on repeat. Momo gives chase. Karupin stays out of reach. Repeat.

I jog after Momo and Karupin.

At last, Momo performs a particularly impressive jump over someone's garden fence, which startles Karupin into freezing.

"Got you!" Momoshiro yells happily, but then his face freezes. He bows, his face apologetic. "Sorry!" I follow his gaze to see a lady with a baby watching through the sliding door.

Momo grins apologetically and rejoins me under the umbrella. By now, he's more than a little damp and smells like grass. I tell him so.

"Let's go to your house, brat. I want to dry off..."

* * *

_(Momoshiro PoV)_

Echizen's cousin is not happy with us. At least, I think she's not happy, even though she got us both towels and hot tea to drink. She probably would still be fussing, if the phone hadn't rang.

Somewhere nearby a door is shut with a resounding noise. I nearly jump out of my seat. "Aah, youth!" Echizen's dad sings out. His voice is loud even from the other room. "Rainy or shine, they take their time coming home. Where did you go today? The good old convenient store? The classroom hallway? Talk to any girls?" His odd, showman-like way of talking is so different from Echizen, who usually doesn't say anything at all.

Unless he's provoking you into a match. Or smarting off, the brat.

"We took the train. It takes a while." Echizen is saying, but his cousin's voice is louder.

"They came home all wet! I took Ryoma's temperature, but it seems to be all right...do you think we should have him take a hot shower or change clothes?" His cousin—Nanako, I think her name is, drapes another towel on Echizen's shoulders.

"What's this? Wet? From rain?" For a moment, he looks genuinely worried, but then he laughs. "I'm sure it's fine. Your choice kiddo. Take a hot shower and get changed, or blow-dry your— hair and get changed."

"I don't need to blow-dry—"

"No, you need to do what your father says," Nanako scolds. "I think you should take a nice hot shower...but we could run the bath with those nice salts...oh, or you could take shower now and a bath later...oh no, you're not supposed to get your catheter wet!"

"No, my port-o-cath can get wet. I got the port-a-cath, not the hickman catheter." Echizen corrects. I can't help but stare, which is probably why he is still glaring at me after Nanako said something.

Or maybe she was talking to me...

"Huh?" I say. I guess I can't grin my way out of this one...

"She asked if you wanted to blow-dry your hair while I take a shower."

"Nah, s'kay." I shrug, and can't help but look around the kitchen. There's some sort of complicated medical chart—is that _all_ the meds he's on now?— and visitor name cards and all sorts of stuff I never would have expected in Echizen's place.

Echizen shrugs. His expression is (as usual) unreadable. He ducks his head and stands up abruptly. "I'll take a shower..."

"Wait up a sec, you can finish your tea." I look at Nanako hesitantly. "Wait, he can, can't he? Then he can blow dry and whatnot..."

"I'm sure it's fine..." Nanako says doubtfully.

"Go sit at the _kotatsu_.(*1) We can turn it on...I always like it there." Echzien's dad offers, and moves our tea cups back to the tray.

"Yeah, yeah. Kotatsu and tea...anyone have oranges?" I grin and follow.

We're all settled and back to sipping our tea, but neither of us says anything for a few long moments. Nanako finally stopped hovering, and Echizen's dad is humming away in the kitchen. I glance at the clock. It's nearly five thirty. My mind whirls as I strain to think of something to say...tennis is sorta out, and I don't want to mention his...illness...I guess I could mention his cat—

"Momo, just spit it out. You're making my head hurt."

"What?" I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "I was just thinking—"

"About what?" Echizen rests his head on his chin and fixes me with his gaze. That look would make Tezuka or Atobe itch to have a match.

"Er..."

"You don't have to avoid talking about stuff, you know. I still _like_ tennis. Even if I can't practice with the regulars right now."

"You 're still a regular." I protest, but even I know it's not quite true.

Echizen snorts. "You don't have to talk about me being sick, Momo. Just talk about what we always talk about—tennis, school...food. Your life. My life."

"Er, yeah. I will..." Echizen just stares. I sigh. "I'll work on it. Listen...about..." I fidget. It's really not quite cold enough to need the kotatsu. Really, I was just thinking how nice it was that the summer heat and humidity had broken. _But how can I say—aaaarrrg. _I clear my throat. "Anyways, thanks for the tea! See you tomorrow kiddo. If you're taking the train, leave early." I flash him a grin.

I stand up and put my school uniform jacket back on. My back is to Echizen.

"Momo."

My hand feezes on the door. "Yeah?" I look behind me, settling my eyes on his shirt-collar.

"We're still friends, right?"

"What? Yeah!" I sputter. Echzien only nods. "Why would you ask—"

"It's nothing." Echizen doesn't drop his gaze. I squirm under the pressure.

"Come on Echizen, what?" I roll my eyes.

"You're not the same. You don't talk to me." He takes a breath and _now_ he looks away. "You didn't visit."

I turn around to sit back down. "You're angry."

"No." Stubborn brat.

"Sorry." My voice sounds almost angry—not like I meant for it to sound at all. "Sorry," I say again. "I meant to visit more...but, it's y'know."

"What? It's _what_?"

"Er...I know it's hard for you. It's got to be harder for you than for me, but it's hard to, for me, I mean. It's hard toseeyoulikethis. AllsickImean. It just..."

Echizen raises an eyebrow. I laugh. I didn't know he could do that...

"You look like-" I laugh some more. "Er. Sorry."

"What did you say?"

"It's hard to see you sick. I mean, you're the super rookie from Seigaku! You're supposed to beat all of our butts and then tell us we've got a ways to go. Not..."

"Be done in by some rain." Echizen offers. "I know. I feel like that too...Pathetic, aren't I?" His voice sounds so bitter. I feel immediately guilty for laughing.

"No. You're not. I was wrong...I mean, it's hard, but I was wrong. Really, it just shows how strong you are." I feel heat in my cheeks, but rush to finish. "You're...I dunno, really brave. You're the strongest first yea—"

"No I'm not!"Echizen yells, cutting me off. "I'm not brave. I'm just sick. I'm not courageous or strong or anything because I have leukemia. I'm scared. I don't want to be sick, or to die, or to never play tennis again—" Echizen takes a deep breath. "And I don't want to go to school when I can't even play tennis."

I don't know what to say. "Echiz—"

"Forget it Momo. I'll see you in school tomorrow." He pushes past me and disappears down the hall into a room.

I sigh. That didn't go well.

* * *

tbc...

**A/side Note.** Somehow, I don't see Momo calling Ryoma's dad "Mr. Echizen," and definitely not Nanjiro. Momo is casual like that...

**(*1) Kotatsu.** A low table with a (usually electric) heater. Usually it has a blanket under the table top. Usually it isn't used until winter, but the Echizen family may have taken it out early for Ryoma to warm up on a rainy day in September.

**A/N2.** On updates. (Next chapter is probably sometime late July or August? I'm busy applying for grad school.) It's interesting writing from 12 and 13 year old's perspectives...I really try to keep their word choice appropriate, and try to express their feelings in more or less simple sentences and not so complicated structure. That's interesting.

Don't feel down! Ryoma will cope. By the way, I'm toying with the idea of introducing Ryoga to this story...what do you think?


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